


In Defiance of Time

by Welcome_to_chilis



Series: In Defiance of Time [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Everyone Has Trauma, Ghost makes bad choices: the fanfic, Grimm and The Radiance are siblings, I gave the other vessels names, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Nightmare King Grimm is a Good Parent (Hollow Knight), PK is a good dad to Hollow, Radiance Redemption, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, The Knight is Called Ghost (Hollow Knight), The Pale King Redemption (Hollow Knight), The Pale King is a Good Parent (Hollow Knight), The Radiance isn't completely evil, They/Them Pronouns for The Vessels (Hollow Knight), Time Travel Fix-It, bc hornet has to get made somehow, but no actual sexual content, mentions of Blackwyrm, mentions of Hungry Knight, mentions of The Battle of the Blackwyrm, no beta we die like Ghost, rating changed to mature for a particularly gruesome scene in chapter 6, sort of a swap!AU too, they're trying their best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:21:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 40,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28538022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welcome_to_chilis/pseuds/Welcome_to_chilis
Summary: Void has the power to defy time, the tablet had said. Ghost didn't know what it had truly meant at the time, but now, looking over the body of their sibling, they began to understand.They had to go back.They had to fix this.
Relationships: Grimm & The Knight (Hollow Knight), Grimm & The Radiance (Hollow Knight), Herrah the Beast/The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight), The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Siblings (Hollow Knight), The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Knight, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Pale King, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Radiance, The Knight & Siblings (Hollow Knight), The Pale King & Nightmare King Grimm, Traitor Lord's Daughter/Ze'mer | Grey Mourner
Series: In Defiance of Time [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2158944
Comments: 367
Kudos: 390





	1. New Game

**Void, yours is the power opposed.**

**But yours is potential, eternity potential, force that could deny Time.**

**Void, harness shall be placed upon you.**

**Deny Time…**

**_Deny Time…_**

**_Go back…_ **

****

**_Please…_ **

****

**_Let me go back…_ **

****

**_…_ **

****

**_Please…_ **

****

****

**_I’m sorry…_ **

****

Ghost woke with a start, they shot up and frantically began looking around. They looked over the broken shells of their dead siblings, then down at themselves, then at their hands, before finally looking up with stuttering, shaky breath. Everything looked just as it did the day they first hatched. They fell to their knees as they began laughing silently in relief.

_I’m back,_ they thought, _I still have a chance, I can fix this._

They got back up and began to scan the area again, their mind too overjoyed at first to recognize the obvious elephant in the room. They looked, and looked, and looked, until finally the reality of their current situation dawned on them.

_How—how did I get out of here the first time?!_

The joy faded into apprehension as they began to look around more frantically, silently cursing themself for not being able to recall their first escape from the Abyss. Then they took a second look at their hands, noticing the King’s Brand still imprinted on their right one. Letting out a sigh of relief that they had at least been able to take that with them, they jumped up to the first platform, then they made a jump for the second—

And missed.

_Right, no mantis claws. No matter, I’ll just need to keep that in mind and try again—_

They made the jump for the second platform—

And missed again. They were certain they’d used their wings this time. They turned their head and felt back for their wings—only for their blood to run cold at what greeted them, part of their memory of this day coming back to them.

_Broken…_ they began to hyperventilate, _that’s right, they broke when I fell the first time._

They were going to die here. They were certain that they were going to die here and everything would be for naught. They began to smack their palm against their forehead, cursing their stupid impulsive decisions. How could they help anyone stuck down here? How could they save everyone if they couldn’t even figure out how to do something they’d done before? They have to have something on them—something they were able to take with them—that could get them out of here.

_Voidheart, King’s Brand, all my spells—I can still shadow dash, neat—but no nail, no wings, no mantis claw. I’m screwed—_

Their thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something being dragged. They turned their attention to the source of the noise and saw an unhatched egg being dragged up the wall by a Nosk.

_Oh, right, that’s how I got out._

They let out a silent relieved laugh as their memory came back to them and they realized they were not, in fact, screwed. Well, at least they wouldn’t have been screwed if they’d followed Nosk curiously like they did the first time and grabbed hold of one of the veins of the egg before Nosk began to drag it up the wall. Panic set in once again and Ghost scrambled towards the wall, jumping to try and grab at the vein only to find it had moved just barely out of reach. They slammed their fist against the wall, jumping again and again in a futile attempt to grab the vein that was moving further and further out of reach.

_No!_ Their thoughts screamed, _No! It can’t end like this!_

They turned around to look for anything they could use to propel themself upward—and saw the face of one of their sibling’s shades staring back at them. They were initially startled by it, but then quickly got an idea. They focused on trying to reach out with void to send a message to the shade in front of them.

**_“Can you help me out? I need you to move right up there and when I jump towards you I need you to hit me really hard.”_**

****

At first they weren’t certain if it worked or if their sibling knew what they were trying to say. Then, the shade nodded, and moved into position. Ghost readied themself and jumped towards the shade, hoping distantly that this would work as they felt the wind get knocked out of them by the force of their sibling’s attack. They forced themself to recover quickly and focus on reaching that vein—their ticket out of here. They reached out desperately, watching as the vein continued to move away from them—

Their hand made contact and they quickly wrapped the rest of themself around it. They looked down at their sibling and waved, thanking them for their help as Ghost made a mental note to find a way to help their lost siblings as soon as they could. They turned their attention back to Nosk, trying their best to recall the events that would transpire next.

_**Nosk had turned its attention to the rumble of the egg as it was about to hatch and Ghost took that opportunity to run. They knew they were abandoning their siblings but they were scared. They were already injured from their fall and they didn’t want to be hurt further. So, they ran, and tried to ignore the ache in their chest at their own cowardice.** _

Ghost felt that pang of regret pierce their chest before they drowned it with anger and the resolve to kill Nosk this time, to protect their siblings now where they once had failed. They didn’t care what it took, they didn’t care that their body was back to the weak state it had been in when they first escaped or that they were without a weapon—they’d fought against Nosk under worse conditions in Godhome and they’d won. They could do this, they had to do this.

They would not hurt their siblings ever again.

They crept silently once they were in Nosk’s lair, looking around for something they could use to beat the Deepnest terror into oblivion while said terror focused on the unhatched egg. They caught sight of what was left of a stalking devout corpse lying on the ground, one of it’s foreclaws lying broken in front of it—the perfect size for Ghost to use as a weapon. Ghost picked it up and moved into the center of the familiar arena, getting Nosk’s attention by hitting their new weapon against the ground.

The creature turned around slowly, surprised that anything would be so brazen as to challenge it. It jumped over to the lone vessel standing battle ready in its lair, attempting to stun them with a scream—only to be knocked back to a powerful blow directly to its face. Nosk staggered back, trying to regain its balance—only to find itself ruthlessly hit again. It immediately ran forward blindly, trying to hit whoever this was dead on—but there was nothing there—Nosk didn’t understand how that could be, the attack can from directly in front of it, how—! Nosk couldn’t finish its thought as it was knocked down from a brutal attack from above. Again, Nosk was hit in the same spot repeatedly until it let out its projectile of infection. Quickly, Nosk got up and tried to zero in on its attacker, turning around ready to attack—only to be hit by one final devastating blow to its head. Its skull cracked and the last thing Nosk could see before it faded away was the rumble of the egg ready to hatch.

Ghost let out the breath they didn’t know they’d been holding as Nosk exploded into nothingness, leaving behind only a cracked mask. However, Ghost was only able to relax for a moment before they heard the telltale sound of an egg crack—their siblings were about to hatch. Ghost felt that well of anxiety spike as it dawned on them that they didn’t have any idea what they were going to do with their siblings. They couldn’t leave them here and they knew there wasn’t anyone else who they could trust to look after their siblings—but Ghost themself had no idea how to care for children. They’d only had Grimmchild for half a night and even then they had taken the child with them into _far_ too many battles. They really shouldn’t have done that then and they certainly weren’t about to force their poor siblings into a life of endless battle now. No, they wanted their siblings to grow up and have a good life, a normal life.

**_A normal life,_** their mind mocked cruelly, **_surely you don’t think YOU can give them that. All you’re good for is killing, going back in time doesn’t change that fact. They’ll end up just like every other sibling you came across that night—just like Lost Kin—just like The Hollow—_**

****

A familiar vessel stepped out of the egg first and Ghost felt their voidheart stop beating for a second as they were face to face with their Lost Kin, unbroken, unharmed, staring back at them. Then, another familiar face, the dead vessel they’d seen when they fought Hornet for the first time in Greenpath. Then another, and another, and another, the three vessel they’d seen strung up in Nosk’s lair when they’d fought it the first time. Their mind went blank as their siblings looked at them with both curiosity and fear—and it was only then that Ghost realized that they were still holding a broken devout claw covered in Nosk guts. They mentally slapped themself and did their best to try and communicate with their siblings through void.

**_“No, no, it’s okay, I’m your sibling, I’m going to keep you all safe.”_** Ghost assured them, **_“You can call me Ghost, it’s my name.”_**

**_“Sibling… Name?”_** Lost Kin took a moment, everything new to them, looking between their siblings before turning back to Ghost, **_“Do we have names? Did our creator give all of us names too?”_**

**_“Ah, well, no, but—”_** Ghost hesitated, trying to think of what to say, **_“I—I can give you all names, if you want—for now, you don’t have to keep them if you don’t like them.”_**

The group of new vessels looked between each other before nodding, looking at Ghost expectantly.

**_“Does Kin sound good to you?”_** Ghost asked Lost Kin and Kin nodded.

Ghost sighed in relief before turning over to the Greenpath Vessel, **_“What about the name Green for you?”_**

Green nodded and Ghost felt a new sense of pride well within them, starting to think that maybe they could be a good caretaker to their siblings.

They looked over at the sibling with downturned horns and thought for a moment, **_“Would you like the name Nest?”_**

Nest nodded happily.

Ghost turned to the one with horns similar to their own, **_“How about Mimic? Because we look a lot alike?”_**

Mimic didn’t exactly know what they meant but liked the name anyways and nodded.

Ghost looked over at the last one with sharper horns, **_“And what about Spike for you?”_**

Spike nodded and Ghost couldn’t contain how happy they were. They’d named all of their formerly nameless siblings. This was good, they were doing good so far—so they hoped at least. Now to get everyone somewhere safe.

**_“Alright everyone, follow me.”_**

Herrah would like to think she’d seen a lot in her life. She was the Queen of Deepnest, after all, and had earned the moniker of “The Beast” through her bravery and battle prowess. She was even in the middle of helping Hallownest’s Pale Prick with his insane scheme to defeat the Goddess of Dreams. All in all, she was almost certain nothing could faze her—that was until she had caught sight of not one—not two—but a small army of six vessels ascending on an elevator up to the nearest stag station. Herrah dropped her mug and rubbed her eyes, trying to make sure what she was seeing was correct. Upon seeing that she was, in fact, witnessing vessels waltz out of Deepnest, she grabbed the small shell that Pale King had given her for communication.

“Herrah?” His voice rang from the other end of the line.

“You said you only made _one_ vessel.” She huffed.

“I did only make one vessel?” He replied incredulously.

“Then can you explain why I just watched six vessels use one of my elevators.”

“WHAT?!” His panicked shriek rang out and she had to hold the shell a bit away from herself at his sudden outburst.


	2. The Nightmare King

Grimmchild— _No, Grimm,_ he had to remind himself, seeing as his father was now gone, wasn’t quite sure what to make of the indicator on his map. He wasn’t familiar with the place that had lit up, nor had he ever seen the bug that called to him, but Brumm had said that the place was familiar to the Troupe—and that the being that had summoned them had been powerful enough to catch the attention of The Nightmare Heart, so Grimm decided that it was best that he follow the will of The Heart and meet with this mysterious bug. Besides, surely nothing could be more powerful than The Nightmare Heart, so why waste precious time on speculating what this bug could be like when he could just meet them instead. Especially if the bug was willing to light their anchor themself when given the chance.

Getting their siblings settled in Dirtmouth was a much easier task than Ghost had first anticipated. The _~~fading~~ —up-and-coming_ town had welcomed its newest residents with ease, and Ghost had to wonder just what The Pale King had been planning for a town such as this that so readily welcomed all who ventured into it. They figured they could find the answer to all of their questions later, for now they merely had to focus on feeding their new siblings and getting them ready for bed—a task that they had found surprisingly difficult all things considered. Both Mimic and Nest had declared that they weren’t tired, which then caused Kin to admit that they _also_ weren’t tired—and soon Ghost found themself surrounded by _very_ awake siblings who all claimed to be full of energy whereas Ghost just wasn’t. At a complete loss of what to do, Ghost had made the mistake of asking them if they wanted to hear a story—to which all five siblings nodded eagerly.

So now, Ghost had found themself recounting tales of their travels.

A mistake, they would admit, as they found the more they spoke of their past—albeit under the guise of _completely fiction stories that they were fabricating as they went_ —the more they began to worry for their siblings. The more they began to worry, the more they began to think of all of the present threats that could bring their siblings to harm. They thought of The Pale King, they thought of themself, but the concern at the forefront of their mind was **_Her_**.

The Radiance.

The Goddess of Dreams herself. They had wanted their siblings to rest at first, but the longer they thought the more that prospect began to worry them. Their siblings would have to sleep at some point, that much they knew, but both Kin and Hollow—The Hollow Knight—had proven that void constructs were not immune to **_Her_** influence, so they felt the cold rush of fear wash over them as they realized that _rest_ left them all vulnerable to ** _Her_** meddling. They felt a spike of fear at the idea of **_Her_** choosing _them_ , trying to gain control over Ghost themself, that left them too on edge to give into the sleep that their body so desperately craved. There had to be a way to protect everyone, someone else who could guard all of their dreams—

_Grimm,_ Ghost thought, recalling their brief encounter with The Nightmare King himself.

Ghost knew that despite their shift backwards in time that the God of Gods still resided within themself, that if they were too careless The Lord of Shades would break free from their own shadow and wreak havoc upon all that they hold dear once again.

They knew that their existence alone was a threat.

They knew that their existence alone could be used as a threat against other Higher Beings.

They knew that they could use themself as bargaining chip.

Once their siblings were fast asleep, Ghost headed for the spot they knew all too well that resided in the Howling Cliffs, hoping that—unlike that night—the Nightmare Lantern was still completely intact. They knew that this was probably a horrible idea, that they were being reckless and impulsive—but they had been careful and calculating that horrible night and they still ended up…

Ghost shook their head as they made the careful climb downwards. Without wings or claws one wrong move would be a significant setback—one they didn’t think they could afford given their current situation. They made it over to where they knew the crumbling walls would be and struck them with ease, letting out a sigh of relief at making it to their destination. They quickly moved inside the cave, desperate to contact Grimm as soon as they could—only to find the same decrepit sight that greeted them the first time.

No matter, they could just use their Dream Nail—

_Oh._

_Oh no._

They soon realized that they also didn’t have that on them. Anxious, but determined, Ghost tried to think of a way around this predicament. They figured there had to be more than one way to get in contact with the Nightmare God, they just had to figure out _what_. They looked over at what remained of the Nightmare Lantern.

_Maybe,_ they thought, _maybe if I touch it I might be able to do… something?_

They figured it a worth a shot and put a hand against the lantern.

_Hello? If you can hear me, I’d like an audience with The Nightmare King._

They waited for a second before deflating sadly. Well, at least they tried—

Ghost woke up to a familiar thrum of a heartbeat and a song played by accordion. They got up and rubbed their eyes as they adjusted to the intense scarlet light. They soon recognized exactly where they were as they sat before the bright, beating, Nightmare Heart. Before their mind could fully catch up with their situation they were startled by a puff of red smoke as The Nightmare King appeared before them.

“My, my,” he spoke, “I was not yet aware that _The Lord of Shades_ had a new vessel, to what do I owe the honor?”

_I—,_ Ghost flushed with embarrassment as they realized that they couldn’t actually respond.

“While you are in my realm I can hear your thoughts, dear voidling.” he chuckled.

_Oh, yeah, that makes sense,_ Ghost tried to regain their composure, _I—I want to make a deal._

“You wish for me to lend you protection against my estranged sister.” The Nightmare King smirked as Ghost froze, “Yes, I can see that you hold quite a repository of nightmares. Tell me, for my aid, what would I get in return?”

**_No cost too great._**

****

_What would you want?_ Ghost tried to suppress the fearful shudder that threatened to creep up their spine. They would not show weakness in front of The Nightmare King—at least, no more than they already have.

“My, aren’t you a curious one.” He leaned down so that they were now face to face, “You house quite a powerful god within yourself, and despite your small size you hold quite a deceptive amount of power yourself—you’d be quite difficult to control, I’d imagine.”

Ghost felt their blood run cold as their mind had come back full force to reiterate that this was an absolutely horrible idea. The Nightmare King began to laugh and Ghost’s anxiety skyrocketed.

“No, no, as amusing as it is to feel the fear build within you, I have a different proposal,” The Nightmare King smirked, “a partnership!”

_Partnership?_ Ghost questioned.

“I find it would be beneficial to have The Lord of Shades as an ally rather than an enemy,” he explained, “and for your part, not only will those you love have my protection, but you shall also have my aid.”

_What would you expect me to do in this “partnership”?_ Ghost looked at The Nightmare King with apprehension, the deal that was being offered to them seemed too good, something had to be up.

“We can discuss that when the time comes,” he held out his hand, “for now, I am quite busy so I need to know: will you accept my deal?”

Ghost looked at the hand that had been extended to them, their mind screaming at them that this was a mistake—that they should find another way. They should—they knew they should—but they didn’t know if there was enough time to.

**_No cost too great._**

Ghost shook the hand of The Nightmare King and their pact was sealed in scarlet flame.

“—ey!”

“He—o?!”

“W—ke up!”

“Brumm, I think The Heart sent us to greet a dead bug again!” Whined a voice that was eerily familiar to Ghost.

_Grimmchild?_ They looked up and almost laughed at what they saw.

Grimm—far younger than when they’d met him the first time—stood before them with his arms crossed and a pout on his face. Ghost got up—startling Grimm in the process—and soon realized that Grimm was also their exact height and couldn’t stop themself from laughing silently.

_Higher Beings, he’s so small and cute!_ Ghost began to laugh harder as Grimm looked over them in annoyed confusion.

“What? What are you doing?” Grimm huffed, he’d been here all of five minutes and already he wanted to throw the bug off this cliff and return to his tent. Then, to the shock of not only Grimm but Brumm as well, Ghost wrapped their arms around the vessel of the Nightmare Heart and brought him into a hug. Grimm gawked at the brashness of this silent bug and began to squirm, “H—Hey! Let me go!”

Ghost let him go and moved back, trying to figure out the best way to communicate with him before getting an idea. They leaned down and began writing in the dirt, once again leaving Grimm confused and irritated.

“Sorry,” they wrote, “I was just really happy to see you, my name is Ghost.”

“Oh, I see, you can’t talk.” Grimm felt some of his annoyance melt away, “Well then, _Ghost_ , you may call me Grimm.”

Ghost smiled warmly at him and began to write again, “Would you be able to help me get back to Dirtmouth.”

“Ah yes, the little town where we setup our tent.” Grimm grabbed their hand without warning, an amused smirk on his lips as Ghost jumped slightly—considering the scare payback for the hug earlier, “I do hope you asked me here for more than a simple lift out of this cliffside, but I suppose we can discuss the details in the morning. For now…”

In a flash of smoke that made Ghost cough, they soon found themself standing in Grimm’s tent. Ghost was a little disoriented at first but Grimm quickly assured them that that was normal before seeing them off for the night. Ghost did their best to ignore the growing sense of dread in their voidheart as they walked home, as though they’d just done something horrible.

“Grimm.” Radiance glared at her brother, The Nightmare King, “What are you doing back here?”

“Oh?” The Nightmare King smirked cruelly, “How curious, I thought you’d heard.”

“You and I both know I haven’t been able to do or hear much of _anything_ now that the unholy _Wyrm_ has stolen my land and my people.” Radiance crossed her arms angrily, “Stop trying to be coy and get to the point.”

“The Lord of Shades has a new vessel.”

“ _What?!_ ” Radiance froze, the news sending her into a panic.

“Oh yes, quite a naïve little thing too.” He laughed, “But I’m not here to bring you the _good_ news, I’m here to thank you, dearest sister!”

“Thank me—Explain. Explain, right now.”

“Well, I’ve not the faintest idea as to what you did to scare them so, but,” he turned to her, a wicked and dark smile on his face, “the poor little voidling was so deeply _afraid_ of you that they made a pact with me, imagine that.”

“ ** _WHAT?!_** ” she felt her heart stop at the words he spoke.

“Oh yes,” The Nightmare King cackled, “I must say I’m impressed, dear sister, I didn’t know you had such a capacity for cruelty but that poor little voidling is rife with fear just waiting to be harvested by my new vessel.”

“You—!” Her head began to spin as the weight of his plan crashed over her, “You’re going to ensnare our greatest enemy into your troupe?!”

“Yes, and I have you to thank for it!” He gave her a bow, “Now then, there is much to be done, so I bid you this final farewell!”

“Wait—! GRIMM—!” Radiance tried to stop him but before she could do anything he was gone. She felt as though the world was crashing around her, like she was dying for a second time. She had to find a way to stop this, to stop him, but how?! She was still weakened and even if she could produce a new vessel she doubted that her vessel would have the strength needed to carry out her will. She cursed that blasted Wyrm, his kingdom, her brother, and whichever stupid void vessel that housed The Lord of Shades.

Most of all, she cursed herself and her stupid tantrum for driving the voidling to make that pact. 

She _had_ to fix this, or else there will be nothing left _to_ fix.


	3. Fools

The Pale King found himself at a loss. Then again, it was rare that he didn’t find himself at a loss these days. However, this felt different—and if his new reports were anything to go off of, it _was_ different. The Infection seemed to be acting in a way that diverged from what his foresight had initially predicted. It had receded from the minds of his subjects for the moment but reports from outside showed that it was still active elsewhere and that alone raised every alarm in his head.

There was also the other matter—the **_rogue vessels_**.

He knew that there would be vessels that would escape, however—if Herrah’s account was correct—they appeared to not only be working together, but one seemed to be leading the rest of them. But that just couldn’t be—because if it were that meant that the vessels were capable of thinking.

If the vessels were capable of thought, they could be capable of feeling—and if they were capable of feeling, then he had—

“Vessel?” He turned to Hollow, “Vessel, would you come here for a second?”

Hollow walked over without missing a beat, obedient as ever. The Pale King could almost begin to think that he was merely imagining things with how Hollow responded—almost. He leaned down to take Hollow’s little hands in two of his own.

“Vessel, I want you to answer me honestly when I ask this,” he hesitated for a moment, fearing the answer to his question, “can you—can you think about something—anything at all? I—what I mean to ask is, are you able to think and feel?”

Hollow looked up at him, perplexed. They didn’t really understand what he was asking or what answer he wanted from them—but whatever it was had to be very important based on how frazzled he appeared. They tried their best to come up with the right answer but before they could finish their thought The Pale King spoke again.

“Perhaps—” he let out a laugh, “Perhaps I should clarify what I mean. When I look at you my chest swells and for a moment I can forget the weight of my duties, similar to what you might feel from eating a really tasty meal where you would wish to have it again—but regarding something that is not a meal—that is a feeling that we call “happy”—I simply wish to know if you might have felt such a thing similar to myself.”

_Oh!_

Hollow thought they could understand his meaning a bit better and answered his question with a nod. They liked being around their father, they supposed it made them happy to be around their father, and they wanted their father to be happy to be around them too. They looked up and saw tears streaming down their father’s face and immediately began to worry—had they said the wrong thing? Was their father upset because of them? His grasp loosened and with it they moved one of their hands up to try and pat away at his tears.

The Pale King looked over his poor child, trying so hard to make him stop crying, and pulled them into his arms as he let the wave of regret he’d been trying to rationalize away hit him at full force.

_So, this is why she would eventually break free…_ he looked down at his poor little child, _not because of some unnatural strength, but because the vessels are not completely void of all things. So, all of the children that fell… they all—_

He quickly realized that Hollow was hugging him, trying desperately to comfort him, and he couldn’t stop the ache in his heart at his child’s actions. He brought one of his hands up to gently rub Hollow’s back to try and reassure them that all was well—now that he knew that they could feel he didn’t wish to worry them or cause them any distress. He sucked back his tears as best he could—he could reevaluate the situation later, for now he had his poor, horribly confused child to calm down.

“Ah, sorry, I believe I just got some dust in my eye,” he wiped his tears away and gently rocked Hollow in his arms, “well then, with that mystery solved, would you like to help me steal some snacks from the kitchen for both of us?”

Hollow nodded enthusiastically and Pale King felt his heart break once more.

_What cost am I going to pay to keep this kingdom from falling? What horrid fate am I condemning my poor child to?_

Okay, Ghost was willing to admit it, taking care of children was hard. Not that they would wish their siblings were gone—no, not at all, they loved all of them—but…

**_“Tag! Big Sib’s it again! If we can outrun them for the next hour we won’t have to go to bed tonight!”_** Kin called out before dashing away, leaving the very exhausted Ghost to ponder when exactly they’d agreed to that. They figured they probably didn’t, but it was too late now, besides, they knew they’d be able to find their siblings quickly. Kin was difficult, they were fast and already seemed to have a decent mastery over their wings, Green was quiet and quick but tended to stay on the ground rather than in the air like Kin or hidden in weird places like Nest and Spike, so that left Mimic. Mimic turned out to be the trickster of the bunch, preferring to try and tease Ghost by staying within sight but just out of reach.

They also loved sneaking up on them most of all to poke them before running away—an act that would lead to the doom of the children as Ghost zeroed in on their footfalls and just as they were about to poke them—Ghost struck!

**_“Tag, you’re it!”_** Ghost declared proudly and smirked as Mimic’s eyes went wide.

**_“Aw, nice going Mimi.”_** Kin pouted and Mimic flushed with embarrassment.

**_“You were the one that made that rule!”_** Mimic shot back and both Kin and Mimic devolved into making faces at each other.

**_“Hey, hey, it’s not their fault.”_** Ghost chuckled, **_“I would’ve been able to catch any one of you if I wanted—and this time I just so wanted to catch Mimi.”_**

****

**_“How?”_** Green asked curiously from the stairs.

**_“I have special big sibling powers.”_** Ghost giggled, **_“How do you think I know how to take care of everything already? Special big sibling powers. Now then, I believe I won and if the clock is correct it’s bedtime.”_**

****

**_“Awwwww!”_** The younger siblings collectively whined.

**_“Nuh-uh, no whining I won fair and square, plus—”_** Ghost looked at them with a smirk, **_“If you all go get ready now I’ll tell you an extra special story tonight—about a great fight with a powerful shield warrior in an arena with no platforms.”_**

They could almost laugh at how fast their siblings scrambled up the stairs to get ready for bed. However, now that they finally had a moment alone, they let out a sigh and collapsed onto the couch, looking at their very empty wallet. They weren’t able to get _too_ much in their escape from Deepnest, and now they found that they were completely broke. They’d need to find a way to get more geo, but they were at a loss as to what job would even be available to them. All they really felt like they were good at was fighting, but they were too young and small to become a _proper_ knight yet—and even then they’d have to contend with the fact that they’d technically be working for The Pale King.

_Wait,_ they thought, _what about the Colosseum of Fools?_

That had to still be there. While it wasn’t ideal—they only had three masks of health, no real nail, no mantis claw, no wings, and no charms—they figured that it was going to be their best shot. After they put their siblings to bed they could pick up Fury of the Fallen from King’s Pass, then they could grab Sharp Shadow from Deepnest, and they could probably grab a nail off the corpse of a fool while making their way up Kingdom’s Edge. Perfect, they had a plan, now to just put their siblings to bed.

Grimm huffed as he watched the little vessel waltz into the stag station. He supposed he couldn’t complain _too_ much, he was finally able to do a proper show since they were in a town that hadn’t yet been destroyed, unlike all of the fallen kingdoms they’d been to prior. But, even the allure of the stage couldn’t stave off his boredom. The little nuisance still hadn’t even given him a proper plan yet, but there they went, off on their own to go do… something. Grimm honestly hadn’t the faintest idea what they were going off to do—but he knew it had to be something worthwhile for them to leave in the dead of night. Grimm kicked at the ground in frustration, catching Brumm’s attention.

“Something the matter, little master?” He inquired, “Perhaps a performance this night that wasn’t to your liking?”

“No, no, it’s just,” Grimm crossed his arms and leaned against the window, “We’ve been here for over a week and I still haven’t gotten to do anything cool. I’m supposed to be helping them, aren’t I?” 

“It wouldn’t be good to put yourself in such danger,” Brumm reminded him, “As the vessel of the Heart, if anything were to happen to you the Heart would become vulnerable.”

“So, what—?” Grimm shot back as he turned over to Brumm, “Am I supposed to stay here in the tent until the time comes for me to die too? Is that what my father did?”

“Yes.” Brumm answered frankly, “And for it you will live forever through The Heart, just as your father lives now forever through it—just as his parent before him lives now forever through it.”

“What’s the point of living forever if you don’t get to _do_ anything?” Grimm grumbled and turned back to the window with a pout, “Does the same dance not eventually grow old?”

Brumm felt a spike of fear run through him as he worried that their conversation was starting to take a very _treasonous_ turn, and he did not wish to find out what The Heart would have in store for the young Grimm should The Heart deem him useless.

“Perhaps—” Brumm moved over to where Grimm was, “Perhaps I can accompany you on a small stroll about the kingdom. Would that make you feel better?”

Grimm’s eyes lit up and he nodded, allowing Brumm to relax for a moment—only a moment though as they heard the chime to signal that someone had entered the tent. They moved to the auditorium to find the little vessel looking around for something.

“Ah, welcome back, my friend,” Grimm gave them a light bow but Brumm could see the slightest hint of annoyance in his eyes, “to what do we owe the honors?”

Ghost pulled out a piece of paper that they had written a message on, “Can I borrow that charm notch you have?”

Both Grimm and Brumm looked at each other in shock before Grimm turned back to Ghost and spoke, “How did you know I had one?”

Ghost immediately froze as they realized that they may have just made a horrible mistake, trying to figure out a cover story as they wrote, “ ~~I just~~ —I figured that you probably had one.”

“Nice try but I doubt that.” Grimm crossed his arms, “Try again.”

“I saw it on you.” Ghost wrote with sweaty palms.

“Uh-oh, looks like you’re out of tries!” Grimm started to circle them, “In fact, something has been bothering me quite terribly ever since you’ve summoned us, but now I _have_ to know—you’re not part of the troupe, so how did you know about us?”

“I read about it somewhere.” Ghost wrote their lie with increasing anxiety.

“Oh?” Grimm looked at them like a predator regarding their prey and it almost made Ghost want to draw their nail, “Well then, would you be so kind as to share the tablet or parchment on which it is written? I’m awfully curious as to what it has to say.”

Ghost shook their head on instinct before realizing what they’d done and began to write furiously to try and cover for their misstep, “ ~~I don’t have it anymore~~ —I lost it!”

Grimm regarded their words for a second, letting out a sigh and turning around, “Well then, I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Ghost let out the breath they’d been holding—but as soon as they relaxed Grimm’s cape struck into the floor and back up behind them to wrap around their neck and bring them to the ground with frightening speed while Grimm himself turned around to loom over them, scarlet eyes alight with rage.

**“I do not believe a single word you’ve written! The Heart may have need of you but as far as I’m concerned you have been nothing but an annoying little crawler who has done nothing but insult me by wasting my time and lying to my face—so I am going to give you one last chance to answer my questions before I rip you limb from stupid little limb!”**

Brumm was about to move to pull Grimm off of the poor little vessel but stopped in his tracks as Ghost gave Grimm a frantic nod and sat up as the cape released them. They started to write shakily, looking between Grimm and their paper as they hesitated and began crossing sentences out before trying again—seemingly afraid of what Grimm will think of their final answer. With trembling hands, they handed Grimm back their paper.

“ ~~I’m from the future—I was able to go back in time—look, this is going to sound crazy—please believe me—I don’t know how to say this without it sounding like a lie—I’m the vessel for The Lord of Shades—~~ please, I don’t want to hurt you I have a powerful god trapped inside me and if we fight and I lose and I die they’ll get out I really did travel back in time that’s how I know everything I know.”

Grimm read over their words once, then twice, until he found himself rereading it over and over again. He looked over at the little crawler, then back at the words they’d written, then back at Ghost, “Well, it is crazy, but I suppose it makes sense—oh don’t look so relieved, you’re only spared because I’m happy that someone _finally_ told me something.”

Ghost did their best to wipe the smile off their face as Grimm looked over what they wrote again, deep in thought.

“Well,” he spoke again, “I suppose I could lend you the charm notch—but I want something in return.”

Ghost cocked their head, wondering what they had to offer or what Grimm would even ask of them. Before they could try to get their paper back from him, Grimm had moved so that he was in their face.

“I want to come with you—wherever you plan on going that requires you to have an extra notch for charms.”

“Little master, I—”

“Nope, you heard them Brumm,” Grimm smirked, “if they’re from the future that means that they’re more than capable of keeping me safe, isn’t that right, _Ghost_?”

Ghost couldn’t help but notice the threatening lilt in his voice as he said their name and immediately nodded in agreement—best not to piss him off further.

“Perfect!” Grimm moved back and clasped his hands around one of Ghost’s own with a smile, “Then, we have a deal!”

Ghost slowly nodded again, wondering—for not the first nor the last time—just what they’d gotten themselves into.

**_No cost too great, right?_**


	4. Mistakes of the Future, Here to Haunt the Past

The Radiance hated the Colosseum of Fools, she could see through the eyes of the bugs that had decided to use her infection to boost their strength in that damned place, but because it just so happened that they decided to stay in the repurposed corpse of that void entity until their inevitable demise in those stupid tournaments, she had no way of exerting any sort of control over them—a fitting punishment she supposed, looking at it now. To be forced to witness such needless slaughter like one of the bloodthirsty fools amongst the crowd—perhaps this is what the bugs whose minds she’d invaded felt. Usually, she would try not to focus on the dreaded den of fools, but recent events had left her feeling… introspective…

She huffed from her dream-prison. Okay, she felt pathetic and stupid. The short-sightedness she’d displayed in her destructive little temper tantrum was wyrm behavior—not something befitting of a Dream Goddess—and now she was paying the price. Her old enemy—the one she’d risked everything to defeat once so that those who would not bend to the will of the void could live free of its destruction—was back. For it to return while she was at her weakest would have been bad enough, but now her brother had gotten himself caught up in some insane scheme under the false idea that he could claim dominion over it. All the while she sat here, powerless, seemingly at fault for this turn of events, and wholly unable to undo her every mistake.

Honestly, she would have probably spent the next decade contending with her inner demons—if the little voidling hadn’t walked into the colosseum like they owned the place with her brother’s vessel in tow.

_How dare they—the nerve! To bring my nephew here!_ She could almost scream, _are they stupid? Are they crazy? Are they trying to get themselves killed?! Are they trying to get my nephew killed?!_

It was then that she realized that she was never going to gather any information by screaming to herself and did her best to contain her fury.

Ghost hadn’t known what to expect from Grimm, however they weren’t expecting him to be so…wide-eyed? Naïve? Innocent? Honestly, they didn’t know how to describe it, but Grimm had seemed excited by everything.

“So that’s what it’s like to ride a stag!” Grimm exclaimed as they exited the station at Deepnest before his attention was caught by the elevator, “Oh! What’s that?”

Ghost pulled out their parchment—only to realize that they’d left no space to write anything else on it. They really weren’t prepared to have a travel companion and Grimm seemed to take notice of their distress.

“Hmmm,” he thought, “do you happen to know any sign languages? One of the only things the Nightmare Heart has been good for is that I get to know all of the languages my predecessors know.”

“I know a few, but this one is the one I know best.” Ghost signed, trying to ignore the ache in their chest as they remembered the friend that taught them.

“Perfect! I know that one pretty well!” Grimm smiled, “Now we won’t have any trouble communicating! So, what’s this?”

Ghost looked back at the elevator before answering, “It’s called an “elevator”, it’s a platform that goes up and down so bugs that can’t fly don’t have to worry about ascending or descending between areas.”

“Wow, what a marvelous little invention!” Grimm smiled and Ghost nodded along, wishing they could just get on with their plan and grab what they came here to get. They didn’t want to linger here more than necessary for fear that their presence could go noticed by the Dreamer, Herrah. She would know exactly what they were and they really didn’t want to catch the attention of their “father”, if he could even be called that.

It had nothing to do with the fact that they’d killed Herrah for nothing.

It had nothing to do with the fact that they didn’t want to _think_ about how they killed Herrah for what would inevitably be nothing as her sacrifice wasn’t necessary to become the God of Gods. 

_It has nothing to do with any of that,_ they lied to themself.

“Ghost?” Grimm waved his hand in front of their face, “You still in there?”

Ghost was snapped out of their trance and nodded, continuing on with their quest for Sharp Shadow. The sooner they left, the better, they figured—unaware of the figure that watched them from her balcony.

“What do you mean you don’t want me to get involved?!” Grimm’s young voice rang through Radiance’s ears and she tried to keep her attention on the voidling. They were using hand signals to convey their message back to her nephew, but it appeared as though Grimm was having none of it, “No! I want to come fight with you, that was the deal!”

_Deal?_ Radiance pondered, _So the voidling didn’t bring Grimm here by choice?_

That was… comforting, she supposed. Comforting that The Shade Lord’s vessel wasn’t putting her nephew in harms way by choice, at least.

“I know, but,” Ghost sighed as hey stepped out of the hot spring, “I don’t know what is in store for me in this trial—I only know the ones that are there in the future. I don’t want to put you in harms way.”

“But you’ll put yourself in harms way?” Grimm growled, “What are you even here for?!”

“Money.” Ghost signed, “I need money to support my siblings, Grimm. I don’t have any other options besides this.”

“I’m supposed to _help_ you, remember?” Grimm grabbed them by the shoulders, “You’re weaker than I am right now—so let me help you.”

Ghost shook their head and Grimm let out an annoyed huff.

“Alright,” Grimm shot them a look that sent fear through every fiber of their being, “I’m going to use a word I’ve never used before, so Higher Beings help you if you refuse. Please, Ghost?” 

Ghost’s eyes went wide and they looked at Grimm as though he was—well—a ghost, and brought their hands up to sign in resignation, “Fine. But I’m not responsible if you get yourself killed.”

“Yes!” Grimm cheered, “Come on! Let’s go sign up before someone else takes our place!”

Ghost rolled their eyes and followed him back up to the tablet by the Little Fool—who, to their surprise, was still suspended upside down by chains. They really had to wonder how long he’d been there. Nevertheless, they just had to sign their name and pay—

_Oh shit._

It was just then that they realized they didn’t actually have any money. They looked back at Grimm who gave them a curious glance, but before they could sign to him that they’d have to leave, Little Fool spoke.

“No money, little warrior?” Little Fool chuckled, “No matter, you’re just in time for our annual free-for-all in honor of Lord Fool’s birthday. The fight is free and the prize for being the last bug—or bugs—standing is a chance to battle our champion for 10,000 geo.” 

Ghost’s eyes went wide at the amount presented to them. However, a free-for-all meant that all of the fighters would be on the field—then again they’d be fighting each other as well as Ghost, so that evened their odds. In fact, the more Ghost thought about it, the better their chances seemed. They looked over at Grimm to get his opinion but he was staring at the gate with wonder in his eyes—so they had his answer, all they needed was a group name.

“What should we call ourselves?” Ghost signed to Grimm.

“Hmm—I’ve got it!” Grimm lit up with a smile, “Grimm and Co.—what?!”

Ghost shot him a blank stare before trying to think of a name themself, “What about something like “The Nightmare Void”? It even has nightmares at the forefront of the name.”

“Sounds dark,” Grimm smiled, “I love it. Nightmare Void it is!”

Ghost signed that onto the board and looked up at Little Fool for instruction.

“The main event isn’t for another hour, you can head back down with the others, I’ll call everyone when we’re ready to begin.”

Herrah had decided that she has not, in fact, seen as much as she previously thought she had. Not only did she see six vessels walk out of her kingdom, but she saw one of those very same vessels return to her kingdom with another child barely a week later. She counted her lucky silk that the stag that had brought them there had been willing to tell her where they’d come from—a new town called Dirtmouth. She would have considered this the most eventful part of her strange night—heading to Dirtmouth to await the possible return of what was essentially one of the Pale Bellend’s feral children—if she’d not received a call from said prick in the dead of night while she sat in Dirtmouth’s stag station.

“You have some nerve to call me at this hour!” She growled, “Couldn’t whatever it is wait until morning—”

“I’m sorry.” He said, and her next words immediately died in her throat as she was dead certain this is the first time he’d ever apologized to anyone for anything, “I just put Hollow to bed—I-I don’t want them to overhear this—”

“Hollow?” Herrah blinked, “What the fuck—”

“The-the vessel… I named them Hollow.” Pale King explained, “You were right… the vessels aren’t emotionless machines, they’re children—real children.”

Herrah felt like the wind had been knocked out of her, not from what he was telling her—she knew the kids couldn’t be “void of all things” as he so confidently claimed in the beginning—but that he would admit a mistake—that he would admit a mistake to **_her_** no less—she almost had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

“Why are you telling me this?” She asked in disbelief, “Have you told Root?”

“I-I’m unable to get ahold of her…she…” Herrah could hear his voice break over the phone, “She left me, Herrah. After what I did to our children she couldn’t—I don’t blame her… especially now that I know that…”

Herrah let out a defeated sigh, “Just—take a deep breath. I’m sure we can figure this out—”

“Hollow’s not going in the Black Vault.”

Herrah stared at the shell long and hard as his words hit her like a tram, “Excuse me? What about your “Grand Plan” to end the infection—”

“Hollow’s not going,” Pale King took a shaky breath, “I am.”

“What?” Herrah let out an incredulous laugh, “What do you actually plan to do—”

“I’m dying, Herrah.” His words once again stopped hers in their tracks, “Void Poisoning. I-I contracted it when placing the eggs in The Abyss—I didn’t foresee that it would happen and my foresight has been foggy ever since.”

“…” Herrah fell silent for a moment, shocked by his admission, before she took a breath herself and spoke, “How long do you have?”

“A little bit, I think,” his voice shook, “as a Pale Being I can withstand it better than regular bugs—but all the same it will eventually consume me too.”

“And if we house the source of the infection in you,” Herrah started to catch onto this crazy new plan, “then, you think that the void will consume you and it?”

“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”

“I’m still having trouble understanding something,” Herrah huffed, “Why are you telling me this? Why not city boy or Monomon?”

“I don’t want to worry them—but there _is_ something else, you are correct,” she heard him take a deep breath as though to prepare himself, but his voice shook all the same when he spoke again, “with this new plan, once the void consumes me, you and everyone else will wake up—and, while I know I have done nothing to deserve any of your kindness, I-I would like to ask a favor. Since before my end we’ll have a child together, I-I wish to ask that you also look after Hollow once I’m gone.”

Herrah could almost believe that this was someone else talking to her, the once haughty king now begging her—not for his own stupid gains, but to guarantee the wellbeing of his child. Even when trying to convince her to become a Dreamer, he hadn’t brought himself so low and openly vulnerable—no, he was still proud and arrogant then. In this moment she couldn’t bring herself to see him as The Pale King of Hallownest, the one who’d caused her and her people so many problems, all she could see was a terrified parent trying his best to save his child from his own mistakes. She closed her eyes and let out the breath she’d been holding as she gave him her answer.

“Alright warriors!” Little Fool called out, “Please proceed into the arena!”

Ghost did their best to suppress the growing knot of dread in their stomach as they followed Grimm down the corridor. They were shocked—when they came into the arena—to see Lord Fool alive and well upon his throne. Their shock was cut short as they saw him bring his claw up, before slamming it down on the armrest.

“BEGIN THE TRIAL OF TRIALS!”

With that all hell broke loose in the arena as everyone quickly turned on each other. Ghost lost sight of Grimm as they found themself surrounded by large, armored fools who must have thought them easy pickings. A mistake they would not live to regret as Ghost let loose Mato’s signature cyclone slash, clearing everyone within their radius. They quickly caught sight of Grimm flying in the air, seemingly having a wonderful time.

“Nyeh!” He let out with a laugh as the winged fool he burned fell to their death below while trying to put themself out.

Ghost couldn’t spend too much time watching him as their little display seemingly caught the attention of the rest of the arena.

_Shit._

They parried the first onslaught of attacks and jumped up, whistling to catch Grimm’s attention. Grimm flew over with lightning speed and caught them with his legs, blasting more of the flying fools along his way. Ghost quickly assessed their situation and tapped Grimm’s leg to try and indicate to drop them.

“Into the—okay, sure.” Grimm huffed and released them into the sea of fools on the ground, curious as to what they had planned.

Ghost didn’t disappoint him as they let loose a devastating descending dark dive, popping up without a moment to spare and assaulting the waves of fools in front of them with dash slash after dash slash—cutting through them as though they were nothing. Grimm followed close, blasting the fools behind them with fire and dodging all of their pitiful attacks. Faster than anyone had expected, the arena had been cleared, leaving only two bugs: Ghost and Grimm.

Grimm began to give the crowd a bow, but soon stopped as Lord Fool’s clapping caught the pair’s attention and they looked up at him. Ghost felt their blood boil at what they saw—he was laughing, applauding this display of violence. Their disgust had to wait, however, as Lord Fool whistled and the gate on the far side of the arena shook open. Large bugs moved in and cleared away the bodies at a speed that made Ghost nauseous—did death truly mean so little to the people here? Their train of thought was cut off as smoke began to spill out of the far gate to welcome their boss for the evening:

**The Pale Champion.**

She entered proudly in shining, pale armor—a far cry from the Pale Lurker Ghost had encountered in the future. She regarded the two small creatures with surprise, looking up at Lord Fool only to receive a nod from the large bug. She let out a huff and nodded back, pulling out her signature throwing spikes as she started her assault.

Ghost immediately went on the defensive, dodging her moves with expert precision as Grimm took to the sky to hit her from above. Unfortunately, his fire seemed to only get a grunt out of the champion and she dodged one of Ghost’s attacks in such a way that allowed her to get the momentum she needed to throw a spike up at Grimm—just barely missing his left wing, but still enough to surprise the young moth, causing him to stagger as he went tumbling to the ground.

Ghost felt a fresh rush of rage and adrenaline course through them and immediately switched to the offensive, using what they remembered of their fight with her to dodge her close-range attacks as they began to mercilessly slash away at her. It wasn’t before long that she found her back on the ground and their nail at her throat, ready to deliver the killing blow—

“Sissy! No!”

The small voice of the young God Tamer rang out from the crowd and caught Ghost’s attention. They turned their attention back to The Pale Champion and saw her eyes not fixed on them, but on the child in the crowd, and they could see her begin to tremble. They looked at Grimm as he got up with a groan, then back at the champion—the only one standing between them and their winnings now.

They sheathed their nail and reached out their hand to her. She looked at them, perplexed and frightened, and went to take their hand—only for this moment of mercy to be interrupted by Lord Fool.

“No, No!” He shouted in rage, “You’re supposed to kill her!” 

Ghost dropped their hand and Pale Champion began to fear that they’d changed their mind.

Suddenly, Ghost grabbed one of her throwing spikes and threw it with deadly aim right at Lord Fool—the spikes embedding themselves in his chair just centimeters away from hitting his head. The arena went deathly silent. Lord Fool’s eyes went wide at the insolence of this small thing and he looked over at Ghost—only to see them point to him, then themself, before finally drawing a line across their neck as they drew their nail again.

**_A challenge._**


	5. Spare the Dying

“Hollow, dear child, can you look at me for a second?” Pale King laughed as Hollow’s syrup covered mask turned in his direction and he used one of the fresh wet washcloths he’d kept in the dinning room to clean them off as he mused, “Quite the sweet tooth you have.”

Hollow tilted their head in question.

“It means that you like sweet food—a lot.” Pale King chuckled more as his child nodded their head at his explanation, “Me too, a friend once told me that they feared one day I might give into my dark cravings and consume all of the sugar in Hallownest.”

Hollow laughed with their dad as he continued to clean their mask off. Pale King gave them a once over, making sure he’d gotten everything, before moving back with a smile.

“There’s my little Hollow!” He giggled. He could almost forget his duties—the work to be done and the problems that awaited him outside of this room—if not for the retainer that burst through the doors in a panic.

“Sire!” They cried out, “There’s been news—news from The Colosseum! Please, come quickly!”

The Pale King stared in shock at the door where the retainer had burst in and then subsequently left, picking up Hollow and following his retainer as apprehension pricked at his senses.

Ghost and Lord Fool circled one another around the arena, both fighters assessing each other—Ghost, with their nail held steady, Lord Fool with a large mace in each hand. Ghost was starting to become impatient, but they didn’t know what attacks Lord Fool would try to employ should they make the first move—and if his present restraint was anything to go off of, he was a skilled fighter as opposed to the overzealous brute Ghost had assumed he would be. Ghost would have to goad him into making a move.

With a flash of Shade Soul the fight began proper. Lord Fool spun out of the way of the spell’s trajectory and brought down both maces with devastating force, sending a large impact wave Ghost’s way. Ghost ran towards him and jumped over the wave with expert precision, bringing their nail down at Lord Fool’s head. Lord Fool quickly brought a mace up to protect himself from the oncoming attack as he brought his other mace up to try and strike the knight. Ghost quickly brought their nail up to parry the attack and landed behind Lord Fool.

Lord Fool spun around, swinging his maces to try and hit the knight, but was struck by a horrid, sharp pain as Ghost dashed through him. Before he could recover, Ghost struck him in the back with Sheo’s Great Slash, sending Lord Fool staggering with a howl. He quickly got back to his feet and jumped away, turning to try and catch sight of the little devil only to barely block an attack in time as Ghost went for another great slash. He used his weight to push against the force of Ghost’s attack and throw them back so that he could get some distance between them—embedding his other mace in the ground before bringing it up to throw a chunk of the floor at Ghost while they were still in the air.

Ghost used their nail to deflect the attack right back at Lord Fool—hitting him square in the face. Lord Fool screamed and brought the back of his hand up to wipe the dirt from his eyes, giving Ghost the perfect opening to strike once again with another great slash. Lord Fool swung at them again, recognizing the familiar glowing shade of their Sharp Shadow attack as he was once again hit with that agonizing pain. Knowing that they would end up behind him, Lord Fool used the only attack he could think of that would keep them from slicing his back again and spun around in a cyclone with his maces—landing a critical blow.

Ghost felt the wind get knocked out of them as Lord Fool’s attack hit for two masks of health, leaving them with only one mask left.

Lord Fool jumped away from Ghost and laughed at their staggered form, their body emitting black fog and red mist. His smug demeanor only lasted briefly, however, as Ghost was back on him in an instant, their attacks now with a brutal strength that took Lord Fool by surprise. Ghost quickly knocked one of the maces from his hands and Lord Fool had to readjust, holding his remaining mace with both hands, able to do naught more than block as the onslaught continued. Lord Fool brought his leg up to kick Ghost—a grave mistake as Ghost redirected their great slash attack to the source of incoming blow and in an instant Lord Fool’s leg was gone.

Lord Fool let out a cry as he fell to the ground, the mace falling from his hands and the end looking near. For once in his life, Lord Fool knew fear. He began desperately trying to crawl away from Ghost as they walked towards him, nail dripping with his blood and hungry for more. If Lord Fool hadn’t been focused on trying to get away, he could almost swear that Ghost was laughing, their shoulders shaking and a ravenous delight in their expression.

Ghost brought their nail up to deliver the killing blow—

**_Yes, skewer him, watch the life drain from his body, force him to feel everything you’ve felt, rip him open and crush his still-beating heart. Do it. DO IT. YOU WANT TO DO IT SO DO IT. WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! YOU’VE DONE IT BEFORE—WHAT’S ONE MORE CORPSE AMONG THE MANY?!_**

****

The clatter of a nail hitting the ground brought Lord Fool’s attention back and he watched as Ghost walked away from him. He let out a shaky breath as his confused, terrified mind tried to make sense of what was happening. By the time Ghost got to the still-closed gate, Lord Fool had found his voice again.

“O-open the gate!” he called out and watched as Ghost silently walked through, “I-I see now! I see the wisdom of your decision! I will honor your charity and rebuild this Den of Savagery into a Shrine of Strength that will make you proud, Small Champion!”

“We’ll be back to collect the reward money.” Grimm said as he passed Lord Fool, rushing after Ghost, “Ghost! Ghost where are you going?”

Ghost didn’t seem to hear him as they walked out of the Colosseum. Grimm went to try again—but his words died in his throat as he saw Ghost’s shoulders begin to shake and finally noticed the small trail of void running down their mask.

Ghost was crying.

Pale King entered into a frantic meeting room, his four knights already awaiting his arrival with worried looks on their faces while—to his surprise—Lurien sat at the table, overlooking reports with a look of disbelief. Everyone turned their attention to him and it was then that he remembered that he was still carrying Hollow the way one would carry a child. The Pale King had never seen Lurien angry—never thought he would—but the look the butterfly gave him sent a cold feeling of dread through his being.

“What did you do?” Lurien all but growled, startling The Pale King and causing him to hug his child protectively.

“I—you’ll have to be more specific.” He answered back.

“There was—by all accounts—what looked to be a _vessel_ reported in The Colosseum of Fools,” Lurien got up and moved over to the king, “so answer me _honestly_ , what did you do?”

“I-I—” Pale King looked down at Hollow, fearing their reaction to his next words, “I may have made more than one vessel—and said extra vessels may currently be loose about the kingdom.”

**“WHAT?!”** The shocked cry from everyone in the room made Pale King flinch.

“I know—I know,” Pale King looked down, “I shouldn’t have… withheld this information. I’m sorry.”

“…” Lurien huffed and crossed his arms, “Dismiss your knights, I wish to speak with you, _privately_.”

The Pale King looked to the worried faces of his friends and spoke before they could stop him, “I’ll be alright, please, do as he asks.”

They four looked between each other before walking awkwardly out of the room. Lurien moved back over to his seat and motioned for Pale King to join him at the table. Pale King looked down at Hollow to gauge their reaction and found that his poor child was holding him protectively. He gently kissed the top of Hollow’s head and rubbed their back as he walked over to his seat, garnering a confused look from Lurien before the Dreamer shook it off.

“I have been with you—trusted you, every step of the way,” Lurien began, “so please, please, tell me what’s going on?”

“I—” he looked down at where his poor child was clinging to him, “I will tell you, but I should hand Hollow to Ogrim first.”

“Hollow—” Lurien’s eyes went wide, “You’ve named it.”

“Lurien—please,” Pale King sighed, “allow me a moment.”

Lurien gave him a blank stare, but put his hands up in defeat anyway and gave the king his desired “moment”.

“Now, Hollow, dear child, can you look at me for a second?” Hollow shook their head at his words and held onto him tighter, making Pale King laugh quietly, “I know, my dear, I know, but I promise you that everything will be okay—I just need to have a _very adult_ conversation with Lurien, that’s all. You’ll be in the care of my good friends in the meantime, all will be well, I promise.”

Hollow looked up at him, worry in their eyes, but they nodded regardless and Pale King gave them a warm smile and another kiss on the head as he got up with them, “I’m sure sweet Ogrim will be especially excited to play with you while I’m away—perhaps you can play at being a knight on a jolly adventure with him.”

Hollow nodded again and pressed their face into his robes as he opened the door to see his four trusted knights jump back from where they’d been huddled against it—trying to listen in on his conversation. Had he been the man he was before all of this, he might have been angry with them—however, he couldn’t help but laugh at their antics. 

“Well then, I assume you all know what I am about to ask next,” Pale King smirked as he handed Hollow over to Ogrim, giving them one last kiss on the cheek, “please, take good care of them while I’m busy.”

“Y-Yes Sir!” They said in unison before he waved them off and closed the door.

“I was wrong, my friend,” Pale King said without turning around, knowing what Lurien was about to reiterate to him, “The children didn’t become hollow, they still think and feel as we do. I made a grave miscalculation. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Lurien’s eyes went wide, “But—but the plan—your foresight—”

“It’s… gone.” Pale King admitted, wiping at the tears in his eyes, “I—I couldn’t _see_ that I would lose it… and now the plan has to change.”

Lurien stared at him in silent shock, “Th-that—!”

“I’m so sorry.” He turned around to face his closest friend, “Please—I wanted to wait to tell you—I didn’t want to tell you so tactlessly—but I shouldn’t leave you in the dark, I know—Lurien, I—I’ve done so many terrible things—I—?”

His words were cut off as Lurien’s arms wrapped around him. He tried to say something else—anything else—but Pale King couldn’t help but crumple in the embrace, sobbing openly into his friend’s chest.

“I didn’t mean to push it—I didn’t know—I-I’m sorry.” Lurien spoke with shaking breath, “We can—we can figure this out together, you need not do this alone.” 

The Pale King nodded and let Lurien guide him back over to the table. Unfortunately, he’d made the mistake of looking over at the open report—where pictures from the arena sat in plain view.

A familiar, crimson-eyed, masked face caught his sight and his heart stopped.

_No, no, nonononoNONONONONO **NONONONONONONO—**_

**_Smoke, fire, the clatter of fighting, the cries of the dying, the gruesome sounds of destruction and death, what little he knew crumbling around him._**

****

**_He had to run, he had to escape, he couldn’t look back, even as he heard their screams, he couldn’t look back._ **

****

**_This couldn’t be happening._ **

**_This couldn’t be happening._ **

**_This couldn’t be happening—_ **

****

**_But it was._ **

****

**_And then, suddenly, all was silent._ **

****

**_Only rain and the smell of death._ **

****

**_Then—_ **

****

**_A tent—_ **

****

**_A man draped in red—_ **

****

**_And cruel smile on his face._ **

****

The Pale King fainted.


	6. Sins of the Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains disturbing imagery

Radiance had to wonder if she was somehow dreaming—or perhaps dead, again. She honestly had no idea anymore, but as it turned out, life was not yet done surprising her. She was still trying to process what she’d witnessed from the voidling who came into The Colosseum of Fools—when suddenly, _it_ _happened_.

The Pale King himself stormed into the near-empty arena.

_What in all of the gods is happening?!_ She gaped, _that stupid little Wyrm seldom leaves his safe haven—and never to come to a place like this!_

The Pale King groaned as he slowly opened his eyes, surprised by the sight that greeted him. Monomon was standing over him, Lurien at her side, both with very grave expressions.

“Two things—” Monomon spoke, “one: when were you going to tell us that you’d contracted void poisoning? Two: what happened to your wings, Pale King?”

“I—” He froze, the events prior to this began to flood back to him and he shot up, startling both Dreamers, “I-I don’t have time to answer right now, I need to go.”

“What the—Pale King!” Monomon followed after him with Lurien in tow, “You’re not going anywhere like this—Pale King!”

“I’m sorry!” He stopped and turned around, his terror-filled expression giving Lurien and Monomon pause, “Please, I swear I will explain everything once I am back but right now there is something I absolutely _have_ to do.”

“I—” Monomon looked to Lurien in uncertainty.

“Okay.” Lurien gave him a bow with a sigh, “We will wait… my king.”

“Thank you, my friends.” He said softly and returned with a bow of his own before rushing off.

First, Pale King went to playroom he’d set up for Hollow. His heart ached at the sight that awaited him upon opening the door. Ogrim lay asleep in the middle of the room, both Hollow and Monomon’s son, Quirrel, lay asleep on top of him. He felt bad waking his sleeping child—but it didn’t feel right to take off without telling them. He gently lifted his small child into his arms and did his best to put on a smile as they stirred.

“Shh,” he whispered, “both Ogrim and Quirrel are still asleep.”

Hollow nodded and pressed their face into his chest. He gently began to rub their back and bounce them in his arms softly as he spoke again.

“I-I have to go away for a little bit,” he did his best to keep his voice level as Hollow gripped his robes tighter and shook their head, “I’m sorry, my dear, but there’s something I must attend to. I should be back by nightfall. In the meantime, I need you to do something for me…”

Hollow looked up at him and he placed a gentle kiss on their forehead.

“I need you to do your best to stay with Ogrim,” He gently rubbed their cheek as he fought back the tears in his eyes, “but most of all, if happens, I need you to keep both yourself and Quirrel safe. Can you do that for me, my little Hollow?” 

Hollow nodded and Pale King let out a quiet laugh, hugging them to his chest and giving them one last kiss on the head, “I love you so much.”

Hollow gave him another nod as if to say that they loved him too and he gently set them back down next to Ogrim and left the room. He wrote eight notes—one to Monomon, Lurien, Ogrim, Ze’mer, Isma, Hegemol, and finally ones to Herrah and Root—before he set out to the last room he would be visiting before his departure: the armory.

The stag ride back was quiet, Grimm didn’t utter a word and Ghost didn’t seem interested in conversation. A thick tension hung in the air—Ghost not wanting to address what happened in the colosseum and Grimm at a complete loss at what to do. They entered the station at Dirtmouth and gave a silent nod to the stag that brought them there before heading to the platform that would take them up. Grimm stopped them before they could get on.

“Ghost, I—” Grimm hesitated, “maybe we could—we could charge admission to see the show I put on? That way you won’t have to go back to the—that place.”

Ghost paused, shocked that Grimm would make them such an offer. For a moment they didn’t know what to do—the kind offer had come out of nowhere. Ghost’s mind finally caught up with them and they signed back to him.

“That won’t be necessary,” Ghost sighed, “I can handle everything.”

“Ghost you were crying.” Grimm gave them a pleading look.

“I still won.” Ghost shot back defensively, startling Grimm.

“Ghost you—” Grimm huffed, “what’s the point of getting into fights if winning is going is just going to hurt you all the same?”

“…” Ghost stood there silently before answering back, “you wouldn’t understand.”

Before Grimm could answer Ghost got on the platform and signaled for Grimm to join them, not looking at him once. Grimm let out a sigh of defeat and did so, his fears rising as they did—not a feeling he was used to. He had to wonder why Ghost refused to accept his help—perhaps something he did? He felt a wave of embarrassment rush through him as he recalled his previous… outbursts at Ghost. That had to be it. Grimm couldn’t think of another reason for Ghost to refuse. That was it then, Grimm resolved to show Ghost that they could trust his help. A new dance, a new adventure, and a new friend. Unfortunately, Grimm’s daydreams were interrupted as they were greeted by a very large bug upon arriving at the ground floor.

“Hello—”

“NYEH?!” Grimm spat a fireball at her, completely startled.

“…” Herrah blinked at the two children who looked upon her in fear and slowly wiped the scorch marks off her mask, “Okay, rude.”

The Pale King exited the empty stag station of the new town he’d established, the last rays of sunlight bathing it in a soft glow. He silently thanked whatever luck was on his side today that the few residents who lived here had decided not to loiter around outside as he made his way to that infernal red tent.

_Music?_ Pale King mused, _H_ _e’s gotten himself a new musician._

That didn’t matter right now, all that mattered was The Heart. He rushed through the door, startling Brumm as he passed by.

“E-excuse me, but—”

“I’m here for the m—The Nightmare King,” Pale King said without turning around, “leave this tent and take anyone else inside with you.”

“I-I—” Brumm tried to protest but the look the king shot him send a wave of fear through his being and he quickly fled the tent, warning Divine before running to find the little master.

“Show yourself, _O’ Nightmare King_ , I know you’re here!” Pale King growled as he entered the auditorium, drawing all four of his nails—one for each hand.

In a flash of red, The Pale King stood center-stage in The Nightmare Realm. He heard a familiar chuckle behind him.

“My, it’s truly been too long—”

The Nightmare King didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as The Pale King drove one of his nails into the floor and summoned a wave of large nails that erupted from both the ground and the ceiling of the stage, forcing The Nightmare King to dodge out of the way in a flash of red smoke. The Pale King then turned to The Heart and let light burst from the tip of each index finger as he sent pale, pure daggers at it—only for his attack to be deflected by The Nightmare King as he reappeared to stop them. The Pale King felt a familiar burning begin to grow under him and he quickly moved towards The Nightmare King, swinging his nails as he chased the moth down—careful not to stay in the same area as columns of flame shot upwards behind him.

In a puff of smoke, The Nightmare King was gone again and Pale King readied another attack at The Heart—only to barely teleport out of the way as spikes shot up from the floor in an attempt to skewer him. While still in the air he threw another round of daggers at The Heart to lure out The Nightmare King once more, but this time two of the pulsating patchwork veins moved to block the attack. The room began to shift, coming alive under The Nightmare King’s command. The room transformed, the walls screaming with each new change, and The Pale King steadied his nerves as he greeted that horrible place again.

**_The True Face of The Nightmare Realm._**

An endless seeming, unsteady corridor of pulsating, patch filled red walls that rotated, shook, and screamed in terror—and at the end, illuminating this hall of horrors, sat the ever-beating Nightmare Heart. The Pale King didn’t have time to truly take in the sights as The Nightmare King appeared before him and attempted to slash at him. The Pale King blocked the first slash but the second slash tore at the bottom of his robes, ripping them just above his knees. He used his focus attack to create a quick barrier around himself, sending The Nightmare King away with a hiss. He quickly tore away what remained of the bottom of his robes, figuring that extra mobility the shorter dress provided would be needed as he began to run towards The Heart.

With ease, he was able to block the oncoming attacks from the unnatural fabric around him. He brought the tips of two of his nails together and they began to glow. A ring of swords suddenly appeared around the glowing nail-tips, brilliant and pale, and he sent them flying towards The Nightmare Heart. The walls a few meters in front of him slammed together to stop the attack and The Pale King was barely able to cut through them in time as the walls began closing in behind him. The Nightmare King reappeared in front of him and began trying to slash at him with his cape, each swing blocked by the Pale King—but unfortunately that was the moth’s plan. His cape tendril wrapped around one of the nails and—before Pale King could cut it off—ripped the nail from his hand.

Enraged, Pale King sent daggers hurling at The Nightmare King with his now free hand, each one hitting through his chest and evaporating into pale light. The Nightmare King growled and disappeared in a puff of smoke, giving The Pale King a meager second to get his bearings before ropes of scarlet fire began to swirl around the hallway. The Pale King jumped to avoid one of the ropes of fire—only for The Nightmare King to appear and claw directly at his back, sending him to the ground. The Pale King hissed and quickly teleported away as The Nightmare King wrapped his cape like a drill and attempted to spear through the Pale Wyrm.

Pale King quickly got up and began to run through the dreaded swirling fire, trying his best to ignore the searing pain coursing through him as each flame hit. Spikes began to erupt from the pulsing patchwork that made up the floor and walls and Pale King struck each spike with all three of his nails, using it to propel himself forward as he hurried towards The Heart. The Nightmare Realm began to shift again, everything rotating, and Pale King drove one of his nails into the ground and held on for dear life. What was once an endless hallway behind him had become an endless drop and The Heart no longer sat in front of him, but instead shined down upon him from above. The Pale King smirked—he was close.

The Nightmare King appeared again and tried to slash away at the incessant Wyrm, but The Pale King was fast—he abandoned the nail he’d embedded and parried the attack, landing a blow at the top of The Nightmare King’s head and using that to shoot upwards as he began to teleport higher and higher. The beating began to intensify and the scarlet light became nearly unbearable—but The Pale King remained determined. The Heart began to throw everything at him, flames tracking his every movement, spikes shooting out from all directions, the walls closing in front of and around him, but it was no use. He dodged the flames with ease, he hit the spikes to further his momentum upward, and he tore through the closed walls as though they were nothing. The beating grew louder and louder until The Pale King could feel it vibrating through his entire being—he’d made it.

**The Nightmare Heart.**

He brought his nails up to pierce through it—

“—!”

His eyes went wide and his mouth drew open in a silent scream as a piercing, tearing pain tore through his back. Both nails fell from his hands as two of The Heart’s tendrils entered his body through the two wounds on his back—where his wings used to be. The tendrils branched out and moved around his ribs, making their way around his lungs before they finally wrapped around his heart and began to **_squeeze_**.

“Now then,” The Nightmare King appeared before him, a wicked grin on his face, “are you quite done with your temper tantrum, _Little Wyrm_?”

“Gck—!” Was all The Pale King could get out as helpless tears began to roll down his checks.

“ _Good._ ” The Nightmare King laughed and the tendrils around the king’s heart loosened just enough to allow it to beat again.

“Ple—ase—” Pale King’s voice strained.

“Hmm?” The Nightmare King gave him a cruel, coy smirk, “You’ll need to speak up, _Little Wyrm_.”

“My—child—” Pale King struggled and The Nightmare King gave an amused laugh.

“Oh? My poor _Little Wrym_ ,” The Nightmare King moved to loom over him, eyes alight with delighted malice, “ _they already signed the scarlet pact_.”

The Pale King’s eyes went wide and the cold weight of hopelessness tore through his body. In that moment he had a choice: his child, or his kingdom.

“Please—they’re just—a child—” The Pale King fought to get the words out.

“The pact still binds, you know this well, _Little Wyrm_.” The Nightmare King interrupted.

“Please—take me—instead—” The Pale King’s words took The Nightmare King by surprise, “let me—take their—place—please—master.”

“Oh my,” The Nightmare King grinned viciously, “you’ve not called me that since the day you left The Troupe.”

“Please—” The Pale King repeated as more tears fell from his eyes, “please.”

“How unfortunate,” The Nightmare King cackled, “only _now_ do you decide to be a good father—when it’s _too late_.”

“What—?!” Pale King gasped out, “no—no! Please—please—please—”

“What use have I for a _broken, dying Wyrm_?”

The Pale King felt as though his heart had stopped, the sheer hopelessness of the situation crashing down on him.

“But—perhaps you’re right,” The Nightmare King feigned a sad sigh, “my Troupe is no place for a child, perhaps I should **_cut_** their connection to it.”

“No—!” The Pale King cried out.

“Oh,” The Nightmare King’s grin spread, sharp and sadistic, “so it _did_ affect you, after all.”

The Pale King looked down shamefully, letting out only shaky, strained breaths as more tears began to flow.

“Well then,” The Nightmare King said with horrific glee, “I hope that you’ll refrain from doing anything stupid in the future, I can only imagine what would happen to _their_ mind should I deem them too troublesome.”

The Nightmare King let out a cruel laugh as The Pale King nodded his head in defeated.

“Excellent!” The Nightmare King said as the veins began to withdraw from The Pale King’s body, “Do not despair, _Little King_ , you still have your kingdom.”

A broken sob escaped The Pale King as he fell back to the waking world.

The Dream Goddess was at a loss for words at what she’d witnessed. She knew from the colosseum that the Wyrm was going after her brother. She tried her best to get into The Nightmare Realm but she didn’t have the power to do so—all she could manage to do was gaze inside. The sight that greeted her shook her to her core.

_The Wyrm… lost?_ She couldn’t believe it. The same creature that brought about her end found defeat at the hands of her baby brother. It was then that her brother began talking and…

She knew he was cruel, but she hadn’t expected _this_. She hadn’t expected that she’d feel _pity_ for the Wyrm.

She hadn’t expected that she and the Wyrm would want the same thing—for the voidling to no longer be part of The Troupe.

She had to find some way to gain an audience with the Pale Wyrm.

**As loathe as she was to admit it, she needed his help.**


	7. And When You're Done Bury Me Too

Ghost and Grimm watched Herrah wearily as they sat at their kitchen table in Dirtmouth. She sipped her tea, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“Thank you, for allowing me this chance to speak with you.” She said.

“Ghost says that you’re welcome,” Grimm interpreted for them, “but before anything else they want you to know they have no intention of talking to The Pale King.”

“I know.” Herrah looked down at her tea, “He told me about what he’d done. I have no intention of forcing you to speak with him—and I doubt he’d try to force a meeting himself.”

Ghost was taken aback—they didn’t know what to say to that. They were certain that she would either tell their father or refuse to tell him out of spite. They never thought that he would _tell_ anyone about the horrors he’d committed—or that he would even feel bad about them.

“Ghost wants to know what you want to talk about, then.” Grimm quickly translated as Ghost signed in confusion.

“I wanted to ask if you would consider letting me adopt you and your siblings.”

“What?” Grimm said on his own, quickly looking over at Ghost to get their reaction only to see that it was the same as his own, “Ghost said the same thing I did.”

“Apologies,” Herrah chuckled, “I should have asked if you’d found another parent first.”

“Well, no,” Ghost signed, “but why would you offer something like that?”

“Well,” Herrah sighed, “you’re all just children, to start. It isn’t right to let you try to take care of yourselves. I’d also planned to become a mother myself before events had… changed—but that’s beside the point. I can’t in good conscience leave you to fend for yourselves without at least offering to take care of you all.”

“Ghost?” Grimm looked at them in question as Ghost became lost in thought.

_On one hand,_ they began to think the offer through, _she’s affiliated with the Pale Deadbeat. On the other hand, she’s a queen. I could ensure my siblings safety, wellbeing, provide them an education. And she’s Hornet’s mom— ** ~~who you killed~~** —so I think I can trust her? I also need to start working on taking down The Infection before Hollow’s forced to go into the Black Egg. _

“What? Ghost are you sure?” Grimm looked at them in disbelief as Ghost nodded to him, “Alright, Ghost says yes to your offer—but so long as you agree to their conditions.”

“Alright,” Herrah smiled, “what would you want?”

“I want to be able to come and go as I wish—just me, I need you to look after my other siblings and keep them safe.” Ghost huffed, “Also—The Pale King is not allowed near any of the siblings.”

“…” Herrah took a moment to consider the offer, assessing them and the nail they wore on their back, before letting out a defeated sigh, “Alright, though I can assure you I wouldn’t let your father near without your permission—”

She paused as she noticed Ghost went pale as their gaze turned to something to the right of her. As she turned to see what they were looking at, she caught a glimpse of one of the siblings as they quickly rushed up the stairwell.

“Excuse me.” Ghost signed and rushed after Green.

**_“Greenie?”_ **Ghost called out and Green slowly stepped out from the bathroom.

_**“Who’s that?”**_ Green asked.

_**“Her name is Herrah, she’s a friend and—”**_ Ghost hesitated, **_“she wants to be our mom.”_ **

**_“How come we don’t get to see dad?”_** Green asked with a sniffle and Ghost felt as though they’d been hit by a tram.

_**“W-well—”**_ Ghost tried to figure out how to explain it to them—that their dad was a monster who killed the rest of their siblings and left them all to die, _**“He did some… pretty bad things… I don’t want you guys to get hurt by him.”**_

__

**_“He would hurt us?”_** Green looked heartbroken and Ghost quickly felt as though they’d been stabbed a million times over.

**_“I—well—no, I don’t think so—”_ **

**_“Then, I want to see dad.”_** Green looked at them with such fiery defiance that Ghost genuinely didn’t know what to do. They were so young—they were all so young, they didn’t know any better and Ghost was honestly glad for that, but—

_**“Let me—let me meet with him first,”**_ Ghost conceded, **_“I just want to make sure that he’ll be good to you guys, that’s all. Okay?”_ **

**_“Okay Ghostie.”_ **Green looked down, **_“Sorry.”_ **

_**“No—Greenie, c’mere,”**_ Ghost quickly hugged them, **_“It’s okay, I get it. I’ll see what I can do, okay?”_ **

Green nodded and Ghost sent them back to bed. Once they were gone Ghost let out a sigh of defeat and headed back downstairs, dreading what they were about to tell Herrah.

“Change of plans?” Grimm blinked, “Ghost says that they’d like to see if you’d arrange a meeting between them and The Pale King.”

Herrah’s eyes went wide and she answered them quickly, “Sure. In the meantime, would it be alright with you if we move your siblings to my den? In the morning, of course.”

Ghost nodded and Herrah smiled, thanking them before heading home.

_**“This place has so much room!”**_ Kin laughed as they started flying around the main room in The Weavers Den.

_**“Yeah, but be careful, Kin!”**_ Ghost warned, ** _“There are still weaver webs decorating the—”_ **

Kin found themself stuck in a web just as the words left Ghost’s mouth. They flushed with embarrassment as their siblings began to laugh at them. The giggling came to a halt as Herrah walked in and took one look at the caught vessel, smirking herself.

“I’ll leave this one up to you, Ghost,” Herrah chuckled, “should I get them down?”

When Ghost didn’t immediately say yes, Kin began to panic, **_“Ghostie, please, pretty please?!”_ **

**_“I don’t know…”_** Ghost giggled, **_“I did try to warn you.”_ **

**_“I will do the dishes every night for a week!”_ **

**_“Two weeks.”_** Ghost smirked and Kin groaned.

_**“Fine!”**_ They conceded, **_“Just get me down from here!”_ **

Ghost nodded at Herrah and she immediately crawled up to Kin and unstuck them from the web, carrying them down with her as they let out a sigh of relief.

“So, where’s your little moth friend?” Herrah raised a brow at Ghost.

“He insisted on decorating my new bedroom.” Ghost wrote and Herrah let out an undignified snorted laugh.

“He’s a sweet kid,” Herrah giggled, “interesting—but still sweet.”

Ghost rolled their eyes, laughing, “If you say so.”

Herrah raised a brow at that but said nothing, instead turning her attention back to the rambunctious vessels running around the room, “Alright, everyone, I have some work I need to attend to at the palace, I’m not certain when I’ll be back but Ghost is in charge until then. Sound good?”

The kids nodded and waved at her as she left to go find the Wyrm. She tried to call him using her shell as she got on her stag, only to find that he wasn’t picking up. A sense of fear pricked at the corner of her senses. This was the first time he’d ever refused a call from her—ever so cautious not to endanger their fragile alliance.

_Perhaps he’s just—_ she tried to quell her anxiety, _busy, with his child? Yeah, that has to be it._

However, once she got to the palace she learned that she was right to be worried. Lurien had been pacing in the foyer, looking disheveled and panicked. He looked in Herrah’s direction with hope—before realizing that she was not who he’d been expecting.

“What—” Herrah hesitated, afraid of whatever answer she’d get, “what happened?”

“What _happened_?” Lurien laughed bitterly, “What happened is that my best friend ran off and I don’t know where he is—and I don’t know why he did it—and I don’t know what’s happening—and I don’t even have the assurance that it’s just another problem he’s having with _you_.”

Herrah winced at that, “I don’t understand—what do you mean he _ran off_?!”

“What—disappointed he fled before giving you a child?”

Herrah took a moment to look at Lurien, she knew the jab was meant to hurt her—but the _why_ of his attempt eluded her.

“I called that off, Lurien.” She spoke evenly where she would have otherwise delighted in the shock on The Watcher’s face, “Things… changed. Don’t misunderstand, though, I’m still committed to being a Dreamer.”

Lurien couldn’t believe what he was hearing—but looking back at the note he received he supposed it made sense. He took a deep breath as he reread the words Pale King had left him with.

“I’m sorry, it’s—” he took a deep breath, “it’s been a very long day.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Herrah chuckled softly, “If you weren’t snippy with me I’d honestly be more concerned.”

Lurien let out a laugh at that, looking down at the other note tiredly, letting out a sigh as he handed it to Herrah, “I was told not to give this to you unless Pale King wasn’t back by morning, but you’re already here so…”

She looked at it curiously, it had her name written on it and was sealed with Pale King’s seal. She looked back at Lurien but he was already heading towards the door into the night. He stopped just short of it and turned back to her.

“He said that if anything happened that you were in charge—so I—” Lurien looked down and Herrah began to understand his earlier hostility, “Monomon already left with her son—I have work to do—today has been—”

“Go get some rest,” Herrah interrupted him, “you look like you need it.”

He gave her a sad smile, looking down for a moment before heading out. She didn’t say anything though, merely waved him off as she took a seat. She looked down at the letter once more, dread filling her being. Slowly, she opened it and began to read.

_Herrah, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m an idiot, a fool, a moron, all of those things. I know the new plan revolves around chaining me in the Black Vault but ~~I couldn’t let him take them~~ a sinister god has gotten his claws on one of my children. I had to try. I needed to free them from him. If you’re reading this I’ve failed. The only other person who knows of my actions—of my failure—at this point will be Root. I was never a good king—and I am so sorry to put you in this position now. As we’d discussed, unless Root changes her mind, you will become Queen of Hallownest. I’m so sorry to leave you with this dying kingdom—but if ever I were to find luck in my life, perhaps the Old Light will stop her infection upon my death. I’m a careless, selfish idiot, I know. For that I am sorry. Do not honor me. Do not remember me as anything other than the selfish, careless monster I am. _

_Please tell Hollow that I love them dearly, and that I’m sorry._

_Please tell any of my other children that I am so deeply sorry if you ever find them._

_Please, tell everyone that I’m sorry._

Herrah felt the weight of the note crash over her. Worry, anger, confusion—all of those emotions flooded her at once. Part of her wanted to find The Pale King and strangle him—strangle him for putting everything in jeopardy. Part of her worried for him—something she wasn’t expecting. Part of her was focused on the child mentioned in the note. She wanted answers, and she was beginning to fear that she would never get them. Until—

The doors opened and in walked a beaten, broken looking Wyrm. Herrah shot up, wide eyed as he looked in her direction with the most despondent eyes she’d ever seen. He looked as though he himself had been hollowed out, nothing but one of his walking automata. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. Shock had overtaken all other senses. He staggered forward, managing only one step before his legs gave out under him. He crumpled to the ground and began to sob. Inwardly, she counted her lucky silk that by this point all of the retainers had retired for the evening as she looked upon the weeping form of the king.

Herrah was cold, she knew this well—she’d been told it plenty of times. But, she was not heartless. She didn’t know what transpired to bring the Wyrm so low, but she moved over to him. Gently, she brought him into her arms and held him—not knowing what else to do. He stiffened and paused for a moment, processing what was happening. When he did, however, he began to cry harder, clinging to Herrah as though she was his only lifeline.

He began to speak.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered in the smallest voice she’d ever heard from him, repeating the apology over and over again as he wept hopelessly in her arms.

She hated how her heart ached at that. She hated how she was holding him rather than telling him off. She hated how she couldn’t see an ounce of the proud, arrogant king in the dejected man. She hated that she was starting to care for the Wyrm.

Whatever had happened, she was going to fix this.


	8. From the Ashes of Your Old Life

“How do you know all of this?” Herrah stared at the beaten king with befuddlement, “I don’t care if you have to tell me your whole life story, I want to know how.”

“…” The Pale King looked at his drink with bated breath, “I was the first member of The Grimm Troupe.”

“What?” Herrah gasped, “How did—why did—?”

“It—” Pale King looked down at his hands, clasped tightly in his lap, “It’s a long story…”

**_He awoke to the sounds of an explosion, his room shaking. He wanted to go see what was going on, but he was afraid. Surely his parents would have this under control, they always knew what to do. He was young—he knew he shouldn’t interfere, but when the second explosion rocked his room harder, he left._**

**_He rounded the corner carefully, watching as guards ran through the large corridors. He quickly hid in a small crevasse as two of the guards ran past him towards his room. Before he could tell them that he was alright, another explosion rang through—destroying his room and the guards that had been in front of it. Pieces of debris scraped along his shell and he let out a cough, alerting the other guards who’d run over._ **

****

**_“Your highness!” The guard, a large bug named Dormia, quickly dusted him off, “We need to get you to safety! Quickly now!”_ **

****

**_He didn’t have time to question it as she hoisted the small wyrmling into her arms and began to run towards the secret passageway. He stayed curled up and small in her arms as they ran, rushing through the shaking halls as the rain of explosions persisted. His apprehension grew with each quake, with each scream he heard from above. This couldn’t be real, could it? It had to be a bad dream. Perhaps, if he could survive it, he could wake up. He could rush to the kitchen as he always did, see his sisters, see his parents, get scolded by the chefs for stealing sweets again. Surely, this couldn’t be happening._ **

**_His hopes were crushed as they rounded the next corner. Bugs he had never seen before awaited them, wielding weapons unfamiliar to him. Dormia set him down, pulling out her own weapons._ **

****

**_“Run!” She told him, “Run, now!”_ **

****

**_He didn’t wait, he did as she said and made a break for the passageway. He kept running as the screams of her and her partner reverberated through the halls. He couldn’t look back, he couldn’t go back, he had to keep going. He tripped and stumbled down the stairs and rolled into the cellar, trying his best to collect himself as he heard shouting from the hall he was just in. He quickly scurried into the secret wyrmway, holding his breath as he watched bugs enter the cellar. They held torches and started turning over every piece of furniture in search of him. They let out a grunt of annoyance, figuring he wasn’t there, and left the room._ **

**_He let out a shaky breath, moving quietly towards the meeting area his parents had told him about. They would be there. They had to be there. They had this under control—right?_ **

****

**_They were not there._ **

****

**_He waited, and waited, and waited. He didn’t know what else to do. Eventually, his sisters appeared, Rala and Eris. They seemed relieved to see him, but that lasted only a moment as the scent of fire and the clatter of movement permeated through the passageway. Before he could ask them where their parents were, he found himself swept up by them. The two moving in perfect sync, guiding him towards the exit. He wanted to say something—anything! He wanted to ask them what was happening. He wanted to apologize for all of the stupid pranks he’d pulled on them before. He wanted to know where their parents were._ **

****

**_He wouldn’t get the chance to say anything._ **

****

**_A mob was waiting for them at the end of the tunnels. Angry bugs, a few he recognized this time. For a moment, all was silent. Only the crackle of fire from the torches, and the rushing water from the sewer grate below._ **

****

**_“Hold your breath, and don’t look back.” Eris said._ **

****

**_“Wha—” He tried to ask._ **

****

**_Quickly, Rala tore the grate open and Eris pushed him through it. He held his breath as told and wriggled his way to the surface. He quickly turned in the direction of both of his sisters as soon as he popped up. They were taking on hoards of bugs, Eris preventing them from entering the sewer as Rala tried to slam the grate shut. They were fine. They would be fine._ **

****

**_They would be fine._ **

****

**_There was a scream—Eris’s scream. Then Rala’s. He looked back, only to see that there was blood. He had to turn away—he knew he had to turn away, but he couldn’t. He could see it—Eris’s body blocking what little entry there was into the sewer. He couldn’t understand their reasoning, why they sacrificed so much just to save him._ **

**_Eventually the waterways spat him out just outside of the castle. He hid in the filth and sludge as various bugs passed him by. He didn’t know how long he was there. He didn’t dare make a sound—until he saw bugs hauling the corpses of his family right before his eyes. He wanted to eviscerate them. He wanted to appear out of the sludge and destroy them. He didn’t realize he was growling until a bug nearly looked in his direction._ **

****

**_“Did you hear that?”_ **

****

**_“What? The sewage?”_ **

****

**_“Yeah, never mind.”_ **

****

**_He stayed there for the rest of the day. He let them steal the bodies of his mother, his father, and both of his sisters. They searched for him, but they decided he’d either died in the rubble or drowned when he didn’t turn up._ **

****

**_However, they brought fire for good measure._ **

****

**_They burnt his home to the ground once they were done with it. Anything that was left was severely damaged and there was no hope in retrieving anything from the place after that point. When they were done, they left. They left their destruction behind as though it was nothing but a fleeting memory—something they would one day forget. They left as though it were just another day to them. All he could do was sit there and hide. Even when the fires finally stopped. Even when the rain began to pour down on him. Even when all that was left was the smell of death. He stayed where he was—he had nowhere else to go._ **

****

**_Until…_ **

****

**_“Oh!” The man in red said, “My, my, I wasn’t expecting to find a wyrm here.”_ **

****

**_He said nothing. He did nothing._ **

****

**_“No response?” The man chuckled, “They must’ve done quite a number on you. Wyrms do tend to be quite vicious with their territorial disputes.”_ **

****

**_“What do you want?”_ **

****

**_“Right to the point, I see.” The man smirked, “However, it’s less about what I want and more about what you want. I’m here to help you, you see.”_ **

****

**_“Oh? And what do you think I want?” He scoffed._ **

****

**_“Revenge.”_ **

****

“I was young, my foresight hadn’t yet come in, and…” He looked away, “I was angry. I was so, so angry. Foolish and angry.”

“…” Herrah was silent for a moment, stunned as her mind processed what she’d just heard, “So that’s why… back then… after you'd killed Blackwyrm…” 

“Yes, that’s why I called for an end to the war then and there.” He sighed, “Even if I understood why Lord Maera wanted to find Blackwyrm’s kingdom and burn it to the ground, I wasn’t going to let countless suffer and die over another revenge feud.”

“… Did you ever get your revenge?” Herrah asked pensively.

“… I did,” He gripped his drink tighter, “but, by the time I was finished, it had become too late to leave The Troupe.” 

“But you still found a way to escape—didn’t you?”

“Yes,” Pale King looked down, “but it came at great cost. When my bond to The Troupe finally snapped, I lost my ability to cast bugs under my thrall, my foresight was damaged, and… I lost my name.”

“You—” Herrah’s eyes went wide, “but…”

It was then that Herrah realized that she never actually heard anyone call him by a name proper. Either his title as The Pale King, or as his species.

“It’s a stupid thing to mourn, I know—”

“No,” Herrah interrupted him, “it isn’t.”

He looked up at her with an expression she couldn’t quite discern. He was thankful and perhaps a bit shocked by her words—by her immediate refusal to let him dismiss his own feelings.

“Um, well,” Herrah coughed, moving over to the drink stand and grabbing a glass for herself, “how should we go about getting the kid out of The Troupe, then?”

“I-I—” Pale King looked away mournfully, “he told me not to try anything, or else he would hurt them.”

“Alright, _you_ won’t do anything,” Herrah smirked, “ _I_ will.”

“What?!” Pale King shot up, knocking his drink over, “But how will—”

“I found the kids.”

“You—what?” Pale King stood in disbelief at what he’d just heard, tears welling in his eyes again.

“The kids, all six of them,” Herrah smiled, “it’s why I’m here in the first place, to tell you.”

“I—how are they? Are they alright?” He began to move towards her without realizing it, worry etched into his face.

“They’re all fine,” Herrah let out a soft laugh, “Ghost, the leader, has made sure to take very good care of them.”

“Ghost,” Pale King paused, taking a moment, “my child, Ghost. That’s such a lovely name.”

“Ghost has a friend named Grimm.”

“So they’re the one that we need to save…” Pale King looked up at her and began to think.

“They’re the one we _will_ save.” Herrah smirked.

“Thank you, Herrah, I—” He paused, guilt welling up in his chest as he looked away somberly, “you’ve been so kind to me as of late and I need to—there’s something I need to tell you—need to admit to you… something that you deserve to know…”

Ghost entered into the Nightmare Realm, letting out a huff as they looked around for The Nighmare King. In a puff of red smoke, he appeared before them on the stage, composed as usual.

“To what do I owe the honors?” He gave them a bow.

_What was The Pale King here for?_ They demanded.

“Oh?” He chuckled, “That’s all? It’s no matter, the dear little king just wanted to know why I was here—seeing as his kingdom has not yet fallen.”

_Oh._ They felt a twinge of annoyance rising within them.

“Rest assured, I told him that I was not here to cause trouble and sent him on his way.” He smirked, “He’s quite concerned with his little Hallownest, my, what an admirable king.”

_Yeah, **admirable**. _Ghost felt their annoyance turn to anger. Of course he was just here for his kingdom. That’s all he cares about. 

“Is there anything else I can assist with?” The Nightmare King asked.

_No, thank you._ Ghost sighed, _I’ll be going now, sorry for wasting your time._

“Not at all, dear voidling,” he laughed, “I’m here to help you, after all.”

Ghost gave him a bow and he sent them back to the waking world. Once they were gone he dropped the glamour, the injuries from his fight with The Pale King now visible. He let out an enraged scream as he sent wave of scarlet fire from his hands.

_That damned Wyrm!_ He growled as he made his way through the hallway, _That was too close. Since when did that blasted Wyrm learn to fight like that?!_

He inspected The Heart closely, looking for any new tears or fissures, letting out a sigh of relief when he found none. He placed a careful hand on it, feeling the beat get ever so faintly weaker as time ticked on. He’d gotten lucky, he knew, when the Wyrm believed his bluff. He was also happy to learn that the Wyrm’s betrayal had hurt them both, having spent so long thinking that The Pale King had left unscathed.

But that was over with now, the Wyrm would not be a problem. He had more important matters to attend to, namely the voidling that had just visited his domain. While he expected _some_ nightmares from the vessel of the void, the sheer volume of nightmares that he would have to deal with to attune them to The Nightmare Heart was… staggering.

There was also the issue of the locked door.

The large, void-covered door inside Ghost’s mind. This was the first time he’d ever encountered such a thing. A nightmare that he couldn’t access. Unfortunately, tonight he would need to tend to his wounds.

_That’s alright,_ he assured himself, _I have time._

He ignored the growing sense of dread that picked at the back of his mind.


	9. Reflection

The Pale King made his way down the hall, heading towards Hollow’s new room. It didn’t feel right to leave them in the nursery that Root had left behind, not after discovering his error. It didn’t feel right to leave them in the shadow of her memory. No, they needed a room that was entirely their own, one that he’d spent the day decorating with them. As he turned the corner he saw Ogrim sitting in a chair in front of the door. He felt guilt well within himself, knowing that Ogrim had been up this late because of him. Ogrim caught sight of him and quickly stood, saluting his king.

“Your majesty.” Ogrim said softly.

“Ogrim, I—” Pale King hesitated for a moment, taking a breath to steady himself as he approached, “I’m so sorry I’d kept you waiting this long.”

Ogrim took a minute to assess his king, noting the sad look in the king’s eyes and letting out a laugh of his own as he quickly brought Pale King into an embrace, “I’m just happy you’re okay, I was so worried.”

The Pale King was startled for a moment, but quickly relaxed and hugged Ogrim back, “I’m so sorry, I’ll never run off like that again.”

“It’s no trouble, your majesty!” Ogrim reassured him as he set him down, “As king you’re allowed to come and go as you please!”

“Yes, but, as a friend,” Pale King replied, “it wasn’t right of me to worry you so.”

“Sire…”

“Go, get some rest, dear Ogrim,” Pale King smiled, gently putting a hand over Ogrim’s, “I’ve asked much of you, so please, feel free to take a few days off if you wish.”

Ogrim replied with a bow, only to find himself brought into another hug by The Pale King.

“And, thank you, for watching over Hollow in my absence.”

“It was an honor to look after them, my friend.” Ogrim smiled and hugged Pale King back.

They bid each other goodnight and Ogrim left for his own room, leaving Pale King alone in front of the door to his child’s room. Pale King hesitated, trying to swallow down the guilt he’d felt. He told Hollow he’d be back by nightfall but it was already well past that. He took a deep breath and carefully opened the door, trying not to wake his sleeping child. Only, they weren’t sleeping. Hollow’s head turned towards the door and they immediately shot out of bed upon seeing who it was.

“Ah, sorry to wake you, I—” Pale King found himself interrupted as Hollow ran towards him and hugged his legs. He let out a soft chuckled and pulled his child into his arms, “I’m sorry for worrying you so.”

Hollow shook their head and buried their face in his chest, clinging to him in fear that he’d leave again. Pale King gently rocked them in his arms, shushing them as he made his way to the chair next to their bed. He sat down with them and gently rubbed their back. They clung to him tighter, afraid that he’d ask them to let go again, and his heart ached at the sight.

“Shh, it’s alright my dear child, I’m not going anywhere.” He reassured them, “Though I can see you’re still afraid. That’s alright, perhaps I can sing you a song, if you’d like?”

They nodded and he let out a soft laugh as he kissed the top of their head. He took a deep breath and began to sing to them, a soft soothing melody. Hollow recognized it as the song from their music box and relaxed, falling asleep as their father continued to sing. The Pale King smiled as he finished his song, relaxing into the chair, knowing that he wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while.

Herrah stared at the tunnels on the stag ride home. She didn’t want to think too much on it, but she couldn’t get her mind off of the conversation she’d had with Pale King. She groaned and rubbed her face, sighing in defeat as she thought about it again…

**_“I wasn’t forthcoming with what would really happen to you at the end of The Original Hollow Knight Plan.” Pale King looked down, “You weren’t just going to sleep forever… you, Lurien, and Monomon were all going to die at some point in the future.”_ **

****

**_The two stood in silence for a moment after Pale King’s confession. Herrah took a deep breath, pausing as she noticed the wyrm flinch in preparation for whatever she was going to say. She gave herself a moment to think over what she was going to say to that, before settling on a response._ **

****

**_“You need me for both of your present plans, to save your kingdom and your child, yet you would endanger it all to admit something like this to me—something that will no longer even happen.” She looked at him questioningly, “Why?”_ **

****

**_“Because you deserve to know…” Pale King looked away, “you deserve to know the truth, what kind of person I am entirely, before deciding to help me further.”_ **

****

**_“You risk just as much telling me now as you would if you’d told me back then,” Herrah cocked a brow, “so why didn’t you tell me this to begin with?”_ **

****

**_“I wanted to—!” He stopped himself mid outburst, “I—there’s no excuse for what I did, I apologize.”_ **

****

**_“No—wait—what was that you said?” Herrah blinked, “You wanted to? Why didn’t you, then?”_ **

****

**_“…” Pale King took a deep breath and steadied himself, “Every time I checked to see what would happen if I told all of you, the end result was always ruin, even in the scenarios where I could still convince you all to go through with it. It was a selfish lie… I’m sorry.”_ **

****

**_“So why tell me now?”_ **

****

**_“Because the plan has changed, you’re all meant to awaken once this is over, and—” Pale King rubbed his arms nervously, “you’ve been so kind to me. It—it didn’t feel right, to take advantage of such kindness knowing that I’d previously been sending you to your death without your knowledge.”_ **

****

**_“You think you’re taking_ ** **advantage _of my kindness?” Herrah chuckled, “You’re literally handing me your kingdom.”_**

****

**_“But that’s for selfish reasons too! I’m handing you Hallownest because you’re a good queen!” Pale King said abruptly, stunning Herrah, “I—I don’t need foresight to see that my people will be well taken care of in your capable hands… you’ve done well for Deepnest in spite of the desperate situation I’ve put you and your people into in the past, that I—I’m sorry for—”_ **

****

**_“Shush, it’s all in the past now.” Herrah interrupted, “What matters to me is that you’re trying to do better. As long as what you speak now is true—”_ **

****

**_“It—it is! I promise!” Pale King flushed as he realized he’d interrupted her and shrank back a bit._ **

****

**_“Then,” Herrah let out a soft laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you can count on me as an ally and a friend.”_ **

****

**_“I—I don’t know what to say—I—thank you, Herrah.” He gently took one of her hands in two of his own, “I’m truly fortunate to have you as a friend.”_ **

****

He looked at her with such hope and relief that, in that moment, she didn’t quite know what to say. She was The Queen of Deepnest, The Beast, The Knight Turned Monarch. She was not a Higher Being, not of noble blood, she wasn’t even from an upper tier family. She was simply a knight who rose through the ranks, gifted with a needle—certainly, her strength was a point of pride—but nonetheless she was the same as her subjects. She’s done her best for her people, of course, but there has always been an uncertainty nagging at her from the depths of her mind. She put up a strong, stoic front despite it, though. She was careful never to let anything slip, never to give the others a sign that there were holes in her armor.

She’d never received such earnest compliments before, not from anyone other than Vespa. More than that, even, The Pale King had run off to what could have been his death under the assurance that she would be the one to take over upon his demise. It was one thing to think about their arrangement in the abstract of the future, it was another to confront it as an immediate reality. He saw her as a monarch, same as himself. He’d _always_ seen her as a monarch, as she thought back on it. He’d treated her the same way that he’d treated Deepnest’s prior king: with an arrogant front to shield himself from anyone who would discover similar holes in his own armor. 

She let out a sigh, her thoughts a jumbled mess. She climbed down and thanked the stag that gave her a ride home before heading into The Weaver’s Den. She saw Ghost sitting alone at a table in the main room, a glass of water in hand, staring pensively at the clock.

“Ah,” she said, startling the little one, “I didn’t think you’d be up this late.”

They pulled out a piece of paper and wrote, “I could say the same about you.”

“I apologize,” She chuckled, grabbing a drink for herself and sitting next to them, “the meeting took longer than I anticipated.”

“It’s not a problem.” Ghost wrote with a laugh, “What did he say?”

“He’s excited and thankful that he has a chance to meet with you.” Herrah smiled, and Ghost felt anger start to boil under their mask, “He’s willing to meet with you whenever you’re ready, whether it be tomorrow morning or sometime in the future.”

“Tomorrow morning then.” Ghost huffed, “I want to get this over and done with as soon as possible.”

Herrah looked over their words with a sad smile on her face, “Of course. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to write a couple of letters.”

She gave them a nod and left for her room. Ghost let out a sigh, their mind cluttered. Tomorrow they would meet with their father, the man who left them to die. They would meet with him, because their siblings wanted to see him. They would meet with him because, perhaps, he wasn’t a _complete_ monster. They felt something deep within them rage against that idea—that he’d be anything other than a heartless fiend. He had to be a complete bastard, they knew it. Because if he wasn’t, then—

“Ghost?” Grimm asked, startling them, “You’ve been out here ever since you came back from talking with my father. Would you, perhaps, like to come take a look at your new room?”

Ghost took a deep breath, looking at Grimm for a moment, before signing, “Sure.”

Grimm smiled at them and quickly led them down the hall, past their siblings’ rooms, to their own at the very end. Grimm chuckled and got behind them, putting his hands over their eyes.

“Alright, don’t peek.” He said excitedly, “Ready? One, two, three!”

As Grimm led them into the room and uncovered their eyes, they were shocked at what they saw. Soft enchanted lights were strung up around the room, different colored glass bathing the room in a myriad of red, purple, and blue light. A soft rug had been placed and their bunk bed now seemed to contain numerous plush pillows. However, the one thing that really caught their attention was a hand drawn picture on the wall. It was of Ghost and Grimm, together as friends.

“I made that, I—” Grimm smiled, “I hope you like it.”

“I love it,” Ghost signed in awe, “This is all so… amazing… thank you, Grimm.”

Grimm beamed at the compliment, “Of course! Anything for my friend!”

“Your… friend?” Ghost questioned, and Grimm let out a squeak of surprise.

“I—I mean, I think of you as a friend now, is that—” Grimm looked at them nervously, “is that not okay? I—I’m uncertain as to how bugs normally commence a friendship.”

Ghost’s mind immediately wandered to all of their previous friends—Myla, Cloth, Quirrel, Avi—how all of them died because of them. Grimm looked so hopeful, he was already trying so hard to be their friend—Ghost didn’t know how to tell him. How do you tell someone that you can’t be their friend—because if you do become friends then they’ll inevitably die? Ghost didn’t know what to do.

“I—I suppose it can be a bit more complex than that,” Ghost signed hesitantly, “but you’re doing well, regardless.”

Grimm smiled and pulled them into a hug, “Of course! Thank you!”

Ghost felt a sense of dread well up within them.


	10. From Me To You

_This is it_ , Ghost thought, preparing themselves. Today was the day that they would finally meet their father—the one who caused them and their siblings such pain. Today was the day that they would finally meet the bastard that orchestrated their demise. Today they would have to look at him and see if he was a suitable father for their siblings. They wanted to face him alone, so they asked Grimm to look after their siblings while they were away. If things were to turn ugly, they didn’t want Grimm to have to watch. One wrong move and Ghost would not hesitate to do what they deemed necessary to protect what little family they had left.

 _This is it_ , Pale King thought, preparing himself. Today was the day that he would finally meet the child ensnared in The Nightmare King’s trap—the child that rightfully hated him by all accounts. Today was the day that he would finally meet the child he so desperately wanted to protect. Today he would have to see the child who knew just what kind of monster he really was. He would have to face them alone and accept whatever judgment they bestowed upon him. He hoped all would go well, but he knew that his chances were slim. One wrong move and what little family he had left would be forever out of reach.

The door to the meeting room was opened and Ghost walked in, crossing the threshold to the point of no return. Whatever happened here today would be final.

Pale King stood by the chair at the far end of the meeting table. Various treats and snacks had been laid out around the table and a stack of blank parchment sat on a small table before them with a quill and inkwell. _For Ghost,_ it said, causing Ghost’s anger to rise. The Pale King seemed almost startled to see them, but quickly recovered and greeted them with a bow.

“Thank you so much for meeting with me, Ghost.” Pale King said softly, “Please, sit wherever you like.”

Ghost looked around the room, quickly zeroing in on the chair that The Pale King was standing next to—it was quite obvious that it was his own chair. They picked up the parchment, quill, and inkwell and sat down in his chair, right in front of him. They were smug, completely under the assumption that this would be it. They thought that he would lose it right then and there—he had to! They had not been around him for more than a second and they were already disrespecting him and his rule.

That wasn’t what happened, though.

The Pale King looked at them with amusement and sat down in the next seat over—completely unfazed. He almost looked proud of them—something they were not anticipating. Ghost felt the rage begin to simmer under their shell, trying to think of another way to catch him. There had to be something they could do to trip him up—something that would anger him so much that he dropped whatever act he had going.

“I hope you understand what I’m saying, old man,” Ghost signed with gloved hands, “because I don’t feel like writing today.”

“I—yes I do!” Pale King answered, to their surprise, “Where did you learn—I—apologies, I suppose it’s none of my business.”

Ghost hated that—hated him trying to feign consideration or worse, attempting genuine consideration. They would have killed him right here if they could, their simmering rage now at a full boil, “You’re right, it is none of your business. Do you know why I’m here?”

“I—I only have speculation,” Pale King looked away as he answered honestly, “Herrah said that it might have something to do with your siblings… she told me that you were initially adamant that I stay as far away as possible.”

“She’s right.” Ghost answered, “So then, _Pale King_ , riddle me this: why should I let you anywhere near my siblings?”

“I—I…” The Pale King looked at them, with grief and acceptance clear in his eyes, and it _hurt_. It wasn’t what Ghost had expected from the Pale Bastard, “I have no good answer to that. I can neither provide proof that I will be the good parent that they deserve, nor can I reconcile their original abandonment—your original abandonment. I have given you no reason to trust me or my words, yet at present moment it is all I have to offer. I swear on my life and my kingdom that I will do whatever I can to ensure their safety, their prosperity, and their happiness. I wish nothing more than to do right by you and them, so, I will accept whatever judgment you lay before me.”

Ghost hated that answer. They hated that he wasn’t demanding to see their siblings. They hated that he wasn’t trying to excuse his actions. They hated that he treated them with respect rather than impudence.

They hated that he could actually be a good father.

“Well then,” Ghost signed angrily, “I judge you unfit to see my siblings.”

“Ah, of course.” Pale King looked down sadly, “There is a matter I would like to discuss with you, then, now that your judgement has been cast.”

“Why should I stick around to listen to some stupid old man?” Ghost gawked.

“You have another sibling.” Ghost’s heart dropped the moment the words left The Pale King’s mouth, “Their name is Hollow. I’ve been looking after them up to this point. However, if it would be at all possible, I would not wish for them to grow up without their siblings because of me.”

Ghost looked him dead in the eyes, finding no hint of deceit nor an inkling of hope, merely resignation and despair, and signed, “If you gave them to me you would never ever see them again.”

“I-I know.” Pale King’s voice shook.

“And you’d be okay with this?” Ghost asked.

“It isn’t about me, it’s about what’s best for them.”

Ghost sat there in shock. Hollow was his entire plan. Hollow was the one he was going to use to defeat The Radiance. The chosen one. The vessel who would seal the blinding light. He was going to give that all up—give them up—all because Ghost had decided that he wasn’t a good father? There was no way. This had to be a trick. A ruse. A—

_He named them,_ Ghost stopped, _the same name that I’d given them **—damn him—** but he’d named them. _

This was genuine. He saw Hollow as a child— _his_ child. He was willing to give up his plan for them. Ghost grew angrier—they weren’t sure why. The more they thought about it, the more they saw the resignation in the king’s eyes, the more they hated him. He had chosen only _now_ to become a good father, and they hated him for it.

However, they conceded that he was right—they could not deny their siblings a life with their father simply because Ghost hated him.

“Fine—fine!” Ghost silently growled as they signed, “You can see my siblings…”

“What?” His eyes widened, “I—I apologize if I’d misunderstood, but did you just—”

“You. Can. See. My. Siblings.” Ghost grabbed the pen and wrote, “You can bring Hollow to meet them, too. I’ve changed my earlier judgement—pray that I don’t change it again.”

“Ah—yes, of course, thank you!” Pale King did his best to hold back tears, “Words cannot begin to express how grateful I am—I—thank you, thank you so much.”

Ghost hated this—hated him—hated that they were letting him off scot-free. There had to be something—anything they could do to try and get back at him. Some outlet for their anger. They looked around the table and caught sight of a cupcake sitting within reach. An idea came to mind and they removed the glove from their left hand. They grabbed the cupcake without warning and quickly shoved it into their mouth, taking care to get as much frosting on their hand as possible in the process.

They wrote with their right hand as they extend their left to The Pale King, “Let’s shake on it.”

The Pale King took one look at their frosting covered hand and shook it without a moment of hesitation. The king was beaming and Ghost could not be more furious. They moved their hand up and began to use the sleeve of his robe as a napkin, wiping off their hand before putting the glove back on it, desperate for some way to anger him. Unfortunately, that attempt failed as well, The Pale King regarded their antics with amusement and that same hint of pride.

“If your goal has been to get me killed you may have just succeeded,” Pale King chuckled, “the bug in charge of the palace’s laundry said she would murder me if I made a mess of my sleeves again.”

“Do us all a favor and die quietly, then.” Ghost snapped and Pale King responded by laughing harder—as though Ghost had just told a joke.

“I’ll try my best.” Pale King giggled, “Until then, when would I be able to meet them?”

“Give me a couple of hours,” Ghost huffed as they got up, “I’ll ask Herrah to send word to you once everything is ready.”

“Of course, thank you, I—” Pale King froze once he caught sight of their back—of their broken wings.

_So they’re the one that…_

“Ghost, I—” Pale King hesitated for a moment, “would you be okay with waiting here a moment? I have something I need to give to you.”

“I’m not interested in gifts, old man.”

“I understand, but please,” Pale King pleaded, “at least allow me to show it to you before you make your final decision.”

“…” Ghost groaned silently, “Fine.”

The Pale King thanked them and quickly rushed out of the room. Ghost sighed, their mind running through all of the stupid gifts the king could try to give to them. Perhaps it was going to be money. Perhaps it was going to be a new nail. Perhaps some dumb spell. Either which way, Ghost was certain that they would refuse it. They didn’t need anything from him. They didn’t need his help. They didn’t want his help. There was nothing he could give to them.

At least, that’s what they thought.

When The Pale King returned, gift in hand, they froze. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. Perhaps their eyesight had gone bad. Perhaps they’d fallen asleep. This couldn’t be real, because in his hands The Pale King was holding a device all too familiar to them.

_The Monarch Wings._ Ghost’s eyes went wide, _He… he made them?!_

“This is—this is a device that will allow you to use your wings again…” Pale King looked down, oblivious to his child’s shock, “It will take some time to get used to, but please, consider taking it.”

Ghost took the device and signed, “Don’t expect me to thank you for this.”

“I dare not ask such a thing,” Pale King replied sadly, “it’s my fault that you need such a device in the first place.”

Ghost’s anger spiked at that, and from under the protective blanket of rage another emotion peaked through—sadness. Ghost did their best to suppress that feeling and pushed past Pale King, stopping once to inform him that they’re leaving before making their way to the stag station. Their eyes returned to the device in their hands, their grip on it tightening. Their mind was a jumbled, overwhelmed mess. They had so many questions—why had he made such a thing? Had he made this for _them_? What was the point of making this?

Why had he given this to them?

Ghost soon realized that they were crying again. They scrubbed angrily at their eyes, trying to will their tears away. They didn’t want to cry over this—over The Pale King. He was a bastard—an asshole—a deadbeat who left them to die. He hadn’t cared enough to look after them the first time. He hadn’t cared about them.

_So, then, why did he make this?_ Ghost wept as they hugged the wings to their chest, _Why did he make this for me?_


	11. No Matter What

Ghost curled up on their bed, wrapping blankets around themself. They thought about the device that sat on their back, a device that would help them fly. The Monarch Wings, a tool that aided them so much when they had first traversed Hallownest. A tool that had saved them many a time. A tool that they began to rely on more than they wished to admit. A tool made by their absentee father. A tool made for them.

Why did he make this for them?

They thought about it for a moment. There had to be a reason—some reason why he would make such a device. None of their siblings had broken wings. If Hollow’s wings had been broken they doubted he would have given the device to _them_ rather than Hollow. This device wasn’t part of his plan, it couldn’t be. What need did a vessel have for wings if they were meant to stay locked up in place for eternity—

Wait.

The Lore Tablets.

What White Lady had said to them.

_Hollow was never the plan…_ Ghost realized, _I was._

Ghost felt rage pulsing under their shell. How dare he. How _dare_ he. How dare he look them in the eye knowing what he’d planned for them. How dare he talk to them knowing the life he’d condemned them to. How dare he face them knowing that he’d been willing to leave them to wander the wastes. Were they still part of some plan? Had he been so nice to them because he still needed them for something? Was he going to throw them to The Radiance the way he’d thrown Hollow to her? What horrid plan did he have in store for them?

If they went along would they be able to save their siblings?

That’s what mattered. That’s all that mattered to them. If—and only if—it meant saving their siblings, they would play along. That’s the entire reason why they went back—they needed to save their siblings. They needed to save them the pain of the future. They needed to protect them. They needed to save—

**_Don’t think about it._**

**_Don’t think about it._ **

**_Don’t think about it._ **

They shook their head. They needed to get out of here. They needed to be far away when their father appeared. They needed to fight something. They needed some outlet for their anger. Before they knew it they were out of their bed and out of their room, nail in hand. They didn’t know where they were going or what they were going to do, but they knew someone or something was going to hurt.

Someone new had entered The Colosseum of Fools now that it was no longer a glorified slaughterhouse. Radiance watched them curiously, trying to place them, before realizing who it was. It was one of The Pale King’s warriors, a moth who took up the nail and became a captain of his army.

_Xero?!_ She gaped, _What is he doing here?! I thought it was forbidden—oh, he must be going against orders…_

That had to be it, from what she could remember he was always a bit of a wild one. She almost wanted to chuckle at who Xero reminded her of, before realizing that Xero could leave—unlike most of the other bugs that remained in the arena. That’s it! It had to be! Xero had direct access to The Pale King. He was her ticket to an audience with him! He just had to take one little nap in this arena—and she would have to be equally careful. No more blind rage. No more destruction. Too much was at stake, she couldn’t risk spooking the Wyrm.

She’d already ruined her chance to talk with him once before, she wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

She just had to be patient.

She just had to be careful.

She wasn’t going to screw up again.

The Pale King chuckled as Hollow twirled in their new cloak. It was a puffy white one that matched his own robes—even went down to the floor like his. They looked so happy in it and they couldn’t stop staring at themself in the mirror. He wished he could stay like this with them forever, but there were other matters to attend to. They had to go to Deepnest to meet with his other children. He didn’t know how this was going to go, but he hoped that all would go well for Hollow. Hollow deserved to have siblings, after being deprived initially.

He only hoped that one day, after they realized the tragedy of their birth, that they wouldn’t blame themself.

Until then…

“So,” he smiled at Hollow, “I was able to get some scarves made for you before our trip to Deepnest, which one looks best to you?”

Hollow looked over their options, settling on a simple black scarf. The Pale King smiled and carefully wrapped the scarf around them, making sure it was snug.

“Deepnest can be rather cold,” he let out a soft laugh, “so I suppose you could also do with some gloves and boots.”

Hollow pointed to his void stained hands and tilted their head in question.

“Do you mean to ask if I’m wearing gloves?” Pale King giggled and Hollow nodded their head, “No, your old dad’s a bit of a dummy and decided to start working with void before he could develop a material that it wouldn’t seep through.”

Hollow shook their head and gently reached up to pat his head.

“Oh? You think I’m not a dummy?” He laughed and Hollow nodded, “I once asked a weaver, who was very clearly weaving a cloak, if they were weaving something.”

Hollow giggled silently with him as he scooped them up into his arms.

“I rather enjoy being dumb sometimes, though,” Pale King smiled at them, “I can let myself be amazed by whatever new discovery I make.”

Hollow giggled more and pressed their face into his shoulder, getting comfortable as he made sure everything was packed and ready to go. Pale King put the rest of the scarves and cloaks into the bag and looked around the room for what else he’d need to bring with them. He was unsure how long he and Hollow would be in Deepnest—Ghost hadn’t specified how long they were allowed to stay—but he made sure to pack anyway, in case they stayed overnight. He caught sight of the plush tiktik toy he’d gotten Hollow, tucked neatly into their bed, and smiled.

“Would you like to bring Sir Tikky with us?” He smiled and Hollow nodded enthusiastically.

Pale King handed Sir Tikky to them and let out a soft laugh as they cuddled it to their chest. Oh, how he hoped that this would go well.

**_“Perfect!”_** Green smiled as they looked over themself, twirling their fancy new dark green cloak, **_“We look so pretty, dad’ll have to love us!”_**

****

**_“I think he’s supposed to love us anyways,”_** Kin chuckled, looking over their sparkly orange one, **_“but I do feel very pretty.”_**

**_“I feel sneaky!”_** Mimic giggled, startling the two as they popped up behind them in their pitch-black cloak, **_“Mine even has a hood, like mama Herrah!”_**

****

**_“Mine’s soft and warm.”_** Nest snuggled into their layered purple cloak happily.

**_“Do you think a cloak could be made out of nails?”_** Spike asked while looking at their shiny silver cloak, drawing the attention of their siblings.

**_“Why is everything always nails with you?”_** Mimic tilted their head.

**_“I just think they’re neat.”_**

****

“Kids!” Herrah called out from the other room, “Your dad’s here!”

**_“DAD!”_** They cried out in unison and rushed to the other room.

Pale King had to hold back tears, watching his children rush towards him enthusiastically. He kissed Hollow’s head and set them down before opening his arms to the tiny vessels running towards him. Kin was the first to tackle him, swooping in from above and knocking him to the ground on accident. The rest of the children followed suit, dogpiling the king. Pale King felt the wind get knocked out of him but let out a wheezing laugh regardless, just happy that his kids wanted to see him. With what little strength he could muster, he wrapped his arms around all of his kids and held them tight.

“It’s so nice to meet all of you!” He grinned, “And my, how strong all of you are!”

Their shoulders shook as they all laughed silently. Hollow blinked a few times, wondering if they were the only one to hear the collective laughter of their siblings. Spike turned around and quickly caught sight of them, tugging on the others to alert them.

**_“The other sibling!”_** Spike exclaimed as they wiggled out of their father’s arms and ran over to the very surprised Hollow.

Hollow tried to replicate those same feelings, sending their thoughts into the void, **_“We can talk?!”_**

The others rushed over to them and giggled, Kin answering their question, **_“Yeah! Big Sib showed us how!”_**

**_“Big Sib?”_**

**_“Yeah! They’re not here right now because they’re doing something important but I’m sure once they’re back they’ll love to meet you!”_** Green giggled and grabbed both of Hollow’s hands, **_“Their name is Ghostie! I’m Greenie, that’s Nessie, Mimi, Spikes, and Kin! What’s your name?”_**

**_“Oh! Dad calls me Hollow!”_** Hollow smiled proudly.

**_“Hollow, huh?”_** Kin chuckled, **_“What do you think about “Holly” as a nickname?”_**

**_“What’s a nickname?”_**

**_“It’s like a name on top of your name!”_** Mimic giggled, **_“All of us have nicknames—except for Kin, of course. They didn’t like the first idea we had.”_**

****

**_“I just like being different.”_** Kin smirked, **_“You’re going to need to try harder than adding an “ie” at the end of my name.”_**

**_“What about Ki? Or Kiki?”_** Hollow asked curiously.

**_“…”_** Kin quickly pulled Hollow into their arms, **_“The rest of you can go back to your rooms forever. Holly is my new favorite sib.”_**

****

**_“Nuh-uh! They’re my favorite sib!”_** Green quickly wrapped themself around Hollow.

**_“You’re both wrong! They’re my favorite sib!”_** Mimic laughed as they tackled the group.

**_“Aren’t any of you going to ask who Holly’s favorite sib is?”_** Nest cried out.

**_“Oh yeah.”_**

****

**_“They’re right”_ **

****

**_“…”_** Hollow thought for a moment, **_“Can’t it be all of you?”_**

Hollow quickly found themself subject of another dogpile. Their siblings soon realized that Hollow wasn’t as durable as their father and quickly moved off of them. Pale King laughed, watching the antics of his children. Herrah moved in next to him and gently nudged his shoulder.

“Cute kids, huh?” Herrah smiled at him.

“I’m very lucky,” Pale King let out a relieved breath, “but, where is Ghost?”

“They took the Grimm kid and ran off.” Herrah sighed, “My agreement with them dictates that they can leave whenever they want, but I’m worried.”

“Me too,” Pale King nodded, “I fear I may have done something wrong at our meeting.”

“Like what?” Herrah asked.

“I—I’m not certain.” Pale King sighed, “I fear that they’re unhappy with me as I am. Considering what I’d already put them through, I suppose they’d be happier if I’d been a complete jackass.”

“But you are a complete jackass.” Herrah giggled and Pale King laughed with her.

“True as that may be,” Pale King chuckled, “it’s not the brand of jackass they must’ve expected.”

“Well, what if you gave them what they wanted?” Herrah asked.

“I—” Pale King looked over at the distracted children, thankful that they hadn’t been paying attention to their conversation, “Perhaps we should talk outside.”

“Ah—right—of course.” Herrah agreed before turning over to the children, “Your father and I will be discussing some adult things outside, if you need us please tell a weaver to come get us.”

Kin nodded before turning their attention back to Hollow. Herrah chuckled before escorting The Pale King out onto the terrace. The Pale King was the first to sit down, crossing one leg under the other as he looked out at the kingdom Herrah had kept together. Herrah awkwardly sat next to him, looking at him for answers.

“It wouldn’t help them heal.” Pale King said out of the blue.

“What?”

“If I was what they’d expected,” Pale King elaborated, “aside from the fact that it’d be a lie—if I were to perform to their expectations, they would get the short-term gratification of being right, but it wouldn’t help them heal long-term.”

“What do you mean?” Herrah looked over the Wyrm curiously.

“They’re hurting.” Pale King looked down, “ _I_ hurt them. They need time—they need help. From my own experience, the empty victory revenge brings only dulls that pain for a moment. Eventually you’ll need to deal with the aftermath—and that’s easier to do when someone is in your corner.”

“And, no matter what, you plan to be in their corner?”

“I’m their father.” Pale King chuckled, “I chose this the moment I asked to be in their life. I’ll be in their corner, _no matter what_.”


	12. Those We Hurt

Xero awoke in a shining, golden realm the likes of which he’d never seen before. In front of him, floating in the air, resplendent and beautiful, Radiance awkwardly waved at him.

“Hello, uh, Xero,” she coughed, “I’m The Radiance, you can call me “Radi” or “Rads” for short if you’d prefer—”

“Those eyes! This light!” Xero got to his feet immediately and summoned his weapons, “You! You’re the blinding light of the infection aren’t you?!”

“Well, yes—but I’m truly sorry about that—”

“I’ll cut you down! For Hallownest!”

_Oh boy,_ she groaned, _we’re gonna be here awhile._

“Hey Ghost, where are we going?” Grimm asked, his grip on his lit nightmare staff tightening as he and Ghost traversed Deepnest.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” Ghost signed back.

“Don’t you want to see this other sibling of yours?”

_See Hollow again—_

_**Don’t think about it.**_

**_Don’t think about it._ **

**_Don’t think about it._ **

****

They shook their head and pressed onwards. Grimm wanted to ask them why but didn’t want to push it. They’d tell him when they wanted to—if they ever wanted to. Besides, right now he had to focus on keeping their path well lit. There were so many repulsive little creatures roaming around Deepnest. Grimm found it intriguing—the constant threat of danger around every corner. Ghost, however, found it annoying. Grimm noticed it—noticed how Ghost seemed to consider the creatures they killed to be a mere nuisance. Grimm wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that they’d spent their whole life fighting like this. He wanted to ask Ghost that too—but feared that would also be overstepping.

Grimm had been too lost in thought to realize that Ghost had stopped, accidentally bumping into the arm they held out to stop him. He wanted to ask them why they stopped but Ghost turned to him before he could say anything.

“Quiet, I think I can hear something.” They signed.

Both Ghost and Grimm stood there in silence, listening for that noise. After a moment, they heard it again. A soft sniffle before another weep echoing throughout the cavern.

Someone was crying.

Ghost took off in the direction of the sound, leaving Grimm to cry out in surprise as he did his best to keep up with them. They weaved through the tunnels and garpedes, trying to follow the crying as it grew louder and louder. Finally, there in the distance, they saw her.

_The Mantis Traitor’s Daughter._ Ghost stopped and Grimm accidentally knocked into them.

Grimm looked at Ghost and signed, “Who is that? Should I still stay quiet?”

“I don’t know her name but that’s someone I need to save,” Ghost replied, “I want to go talk to her but I think I’m going to need you to translate for me.”

“Grimm at your humble service.” Grimm signed before he gave a dramatic bow and Ghost couldn’t stop themself from chuckling a little bit.

The two made their way over to her, careful as to not startle her. Once they got closer, Ghost had Grimm put the nightmare flame out. Luckily she hadn’t spotted them yet. Gently, Ghost and Grimm walked in front of her.

“Hello.” Grimm said and Traitor Lord’s daughter jumped a bit.

“Ah—who’s there?!”

“Down here!” Grimm waved her attention over, “I’m Grimm and this is Ghost! We want to know why you’re crying?”

“Oh—well—it’s a long story.” She sniffed.

Both Ghost and Grimm took a seat in front of her and she chuckled.

“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to _someone_ about this.” She sighed, “Well, my name is Kaia, and I was dating this really cute knight and everything was wonderful! Until my dad found out, that is. I’ve been forbidden from ever seeing her again and now I don’t know what I’m going to do!”

_Traitor Lord, the bastard who killed Cloth,_ Ghost internally growled, _finally, someone I can maim._

Ghost knew just what they were going to do.

“Ghost, where are you going?” Grimm called out as Ghost got up.

“I’m going to challenge her dad to a fight!” They signed back.

“WHAT?!”

“Fight me you coward!” Xero cried out as he sent more nails at Radiance.

She dodged them effortlessly and groaned. This was so pointless. This was so useless. Why couldn’t this moth just calm down and listen to what she had to say first? She was trying to fix her mistake for fucks sake! Couldn’t he just give her a chance?! She really wanted to make up for all of the horrible things she’d done—well, okay, maybe that was a bit of a stretch. She mostly just wanted to save her brother.

Okay, actually, her entire reason for doing this was to save him from his own stupidity. But was that wrong? Was it wrong of her to have flawed motives if the end result still benefitted everyone? At least—she thought it benefitted everyone. Did her plan benefit everyone? She… had to admit she hadn’t actually been thinking too hard on all of the lives she’d destroyed in her rampage. Sure, she felt a bit of guilt, but they were all mortals. Their lives were meant to go out anyways—so what if she’d brought that end sooner? _She_ needed to get out—wasn’t her immortal life worth more than their mortal ones?

_Wasn’t that the problem that got me into this mess in the first place?_ She huffed, _I couldn’t accept a mortal death and now my brother is about to lose his own life to my old enemy._

Now a bug was trying to throw worthless nails at her instead of listening to anything she had to say. As though he were scared of her. As though he had a good reason to be afraid—

Wait.

Wait, he was scared of her. He was scared of her infection. He was scared of failing to stop her. She’d attacked first and now she was reaping what pain she had sowed. He was afraid of her. Any bug she brought in would be afraid of her. She’d caused so much damage. She’d caused so much pain. She was immortal, but they were not. They had such short lives and she had cut them even shorter in her rage.

_The Wyrm had been afraid too—when I’d attacked him, hadn’t he?_

_Was… were they just as afraid of me too when they attacked me?_

_Had The Shade Lord simply been afraid of my light?_

_Had they been afraid of the change I would bring?_

She didn’t want to think like this. Her fights had been noble ones. They had to be noble fights. There was no way that she could have been anything less than noble—because if she was, then…

_Am I…_ She hesitated, _am I a monster?_

Had she been wrong this whole time? Had she been wrong about the lives of mortal bugs? If she tried hard enough—waited long enough—she could come back. But mortal bugs could not. When a mortal reached their end that was it for them. She’d already killed so many. What was she going to do? How could she ever fix this?!

_No wonder Xero is so afraid._ She looked down, _I lost sight of everything I wanted to be and ruined everything else in a petty, pathetic tantrum._

**** _Had I ever thought about who would be hurt in the middle of my disputes?_

_Oh, Grimm, had I hurt you too? Long before I drove my nail into your chest, had I hurt you too?_

She was losing herself. She was losing herself in the pain and regret of all that she’d done. If she’d been better—if she’d been different—if she’d understood—wouldn’t everything be better now? If only she’d done better. If only she’d been smarter. If only she could—

“I have you now!” Xero grinned as he aimed a nail directly for her heart.

She summoned her dream shield out of instinct. She hadn’t been paying much attention to Xero and internally she cringed at that fact. She’d been the one to pull him in here, he deserved as much courtesy as she.

“How dare you!” Xero cried out, “That shield is a symbol of The Moth Tribe! How dare you use it!”

“What?” She looked at him in disbelief, “What do you think I am?”

“A foul demon who wishes to trick me!”

Radiance took a moment, taking a deep breath. She looked over herself, looking over her fluff, her wings, the fact that she was flying— _the fact that she looked exactly like a moth_. How had Xero not put two and two together? He was a moth, she was a moth—they were both moths! Did he rely on strength alone?! Had he no brains?! Had she really pulled the dumbest moth into her realm?!

“Xero—Xero I’m a moth.”

“Liar!” He cried out, “I’ll not be tricked by your foul—uh—tricks!”

She wanted to slam her head into a wall—repeatedly.

“Look—please just go.” She sighed and returned him to the waking world—

At least, she tried to. He wasn’t budging. He wouldn’t leave. She grumbled and tried again, pouring more strength into sending him back. Unfortunately, no dice. She had enough power to pull him in while inside the colosseum but she didn’t have enough left to send him back against his will.

_Oh no._

“Hey,” Herrah said, looking over at Pale King, “there’s—there’s something that I’ve been meaning to apologize for.”

“What—?” Pale King looked at her in disbelief, “But, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

****

“Yes, I have.” She looked down, “With our prior agreement…”

“What ill happened because of that?”

“Well, to start, it’s not like you’d had much of a choice.” She sighed, “I’d basically had you cornered. If you didn’t accept my bargain, then everything you’d made—everything you cared for—would have been destroyed.”

“You couldn’t leave Deepnest without a monarch again,” Pale King countered, “we talked at length, I understood your point of view.”

“But I didn’t _need_ to use you, I _chose_ to try and use you.” She shot back, “What I asked wasn’t right.”

“You wanted your people to have a monarch with the power to protect them,” Pale King placed a gentle hand over hers, “it’s a noble wish.”

“But to force you to agree to such an intimate act—”

“You couldn’t trust me,” he looked down, “I’d done nothing but cause you and your people harm since I rose to power.”

“But I did trust you!” Herrah admitted, “After Blackwyrm, I saw that you wouldn’t reach out so desperately without a good reason—and I saw firsthand the consequence of refusing you at such a time.”

“So that’s why you allowed me an audience…” Pale King mused for a second before getting back on track, “regardless, your reasoning was sound and you’d wished me no harm—”

“Didn’t I?!” The words left her mouth before she could think about them, “I wasn’t thinking of you as a person—I hadn’t considered your feelings when I pitched the idea!”

“But—but I’m not a person,” Pale King looked at her with wide eyes, “I may have—I may have wished to be a bug, but no matter how hard I try it will never be so.”

“You still have feelings!” She cried out, “You’re not just some senseless automata!”

“But I’m a god!” He replied, “Whatever I think—whatever I feel—it has to come second to the good of those depending on me!”

“But who will be around for you to depend on when you need it?!”

“I don’t deserve to have someone!” He shot back—only realizing the mistake of his outburst when it was too late, “I mean—I—”

Herrah gently pulled Pale King into her arms, holding him close as more tears began to fall from his eyes, “Everyone deserves to have someone. I don’t care about what sort of image the bugs of Hallownest have of you—you’re just as much bug as the rest of us. What I asked of you was wrong—don’t deny it. It was wrong and I’m sorry. You’re not just some thing for people to use—you’re also a person. You deserve to be treated like a person.”

Pale King began to cling to her, more tears spilling from his eyes, “Thank you, Herrah.”

It might take a while, but for however long he had left, Herrah wanted him to know that he was worth something. Right here, right now, she would help him.


	13. Impulsive and Rash

The Mantis Lords didn’t quite know what to make of the two small children in front of them. One with eyes as dark as the void and one with eyes that burned red with fire. The one with dark eyes looked as though they could kill someone right here and now, while the red eyed child looked as though he would jump at the slightest movement—worried and anxious. The one with dark eyes had been the one to storm into the village from the Deepnest entrance with their red eyed friend and Kaia in tow.

“Um—Hello.” Grimm said sheepishly to the baffled Mantis Lords, “My name is Grimm, this is my friend Ghost, and—”

Ghost signed something to Grimm that gave him pause. He looked uncertain, eyes shifting between Ghost as The Mantis Lords. He leaned in and whispered to them.

“Ghost, are you sure this is a good idea?”

Ghost looked at him with a fury burning in their eyes and nodded. A soft concerned whine escaped Grimm’s throat before he quickly regained his composure and turned towards The Mantis Lords.

“Ghost would like to challenge Kaia’s father to a fight for the right of Kaia to love whomever she so chooses.”

“What?!” Rang out amongst Kaia and the other Mantis Lords as they gaped in collective shock at the words of this child.

“You challenge Lord Maera the Fierce of Mantis Village.” Traitor Lord, the eldest of the four, stood from his seat at the far right, the same size as his sisters, “You would face me in a battle to the death—are you certain of your challenge?”

Ghost drew their nail and looked at him expectantly.

“…” Maera looked at them for a second before calling out to the other mantises, “Lower the cage!”

“Your Majesties!” A weaver scout cried out as they returned to the village, “A report! There’s been a report!”

“What’s wrong?!” Herrah shot up.

“We saw them!” They replied, “We saw Their Highness Ghost enter Mantis Village!”

Both Herrah and The Pale King looked at each other for a moment, considering the information they’d just gathered.

“One of us needs to go after Ghost while the other looks after the children.” Herrah said.

“I can go after them.” Pale King offered.

“Be careful.” Herrah placed a hand on his shoulder before turning over to the weaver, “Escort The Pale King to Mantis Village.”

Grimm and Kaia watched from the sidelines, fearful of what would happen—but each for different reasons. Ghost showed no hesitation as the cage came down and part of the floor next to it opened to reveal spikes. They’d been through this before—at least, most of this. In truth, they didn’t know what The Traitor Lord was like as a fighter before the infection, they only had his fight and their fight against his sisters to use as reference. In his infected form he appeared to be more aerodynamic and relied on brute strength rather than the finesse of his sisters. They wondered if that would be the case here as they readied themself for the fight.

Maera entered the arena, spear in hand. He would skewer this haughty trespasser and prove to his daughter once and for all that outsiders could not be trusted.

Ghost didn’t move a muscle. They waited for Maera to make the first move, knowing that between now and the future there was no move that Maera could make that would be able to throw them. Maera, in turn, waited for them to make the first move. The two stood, staring at each other, before Maera grew tired of their standoff.

“Scared, little knight?” Maera sneered, “I understand. I would be scared of me too if I were a pitiful creature like you or your friend.”

Ghost felt their resolve break at that. Their _friend_ was Cloth. Maera had _killed_ Cloth—and Maera had nearly killed them! How dare he! **_How dare he!_** They came here to take their anger out on someone—and by The Higher Beings they would! They would _break_ him. They would _kill_ him. They would destroy him so completely that he would only be able to wish for the sweet bliss of oblivion.

If they felt they could get away with it, they would summon The Shade Lord right here, right now…

… But no, it would be much sweeter this way. They let loose a barrage of Shade Soul spells and began the battle proper. Maera jumped and dodged out of the way effortlessly, spinning in the air as he redirected himself to come down at the child who’d challenged him. He readied his spear for the impact, expecting an easy victory. Ghost, however, wasn’t done with him yet. They parried his oncoming attack as though it were nothing, stopping him in his tracks. He tried to move away while still airborne but they let out a cyclone slash that sent him into the bars of the cage. He gripped that cage and looked them over once more, realizing that he’d underestimated them. They were a warrior, same as himself.

Maera sent two Dancing Scythes at them from his spot before he quickly dove to the other side of the cage. He sent out two more scythes without thinking about it, realizing—only too late—that Ghost had flown over everything. Ghost sliced at him with their nail, showing no mercy toward the future traitor and fiend. Ghost rejoiced in the screams he let out at being hit with their nail—they thought he deserved to feel this pain. He deserved to feel the pain that he’d inflict in the future. One of his sisters wanted to move in to help him, only to be stopped by another.

Maera jumped away again, trying to regain his bearings. He had to rethink his strategy or else he would be killed by a single child! He didn’t have the time to think, though, as Ghost did their best to fly after him—relentless in their attack. Maera did his best to parry them as he tried to escape their reach—soon realizing that it was a pointless endeavor. They were _furious_ and they would not stop. They would not stop their assault until he was dead in the ground. This—at least—they could be sure of in their life. The Traitor Lord had to go, one way or another—and damn them if they didn’t hope that he’d stubbornly go the way that they wanted.

If they couldn’t get their revenge on one front, they’d get it on another.

It was then that Maera appeared before them, spear drawn in a defensive position. Ghost let out a silent growl at that. At the thought that Maera would be afraid of _them_. However bad they were, they could always count on the fact that Maera was _worse_. They had to count on the fact that Maera was worse. They refused to believe that at any point _Maera_ of all people could be better than them.

**_You refused to believe the same of The Pale King too._**

****

Ghost growled and let another Shade Soul loose at Maera. Maera did his best to remain tall against the onslaught, driving his spear into the ground and clinging to it for dear life. He’d survived Blackwyrm—he would survive this! He would not give up, not until his dying breath left his body! He would protect his people—he would protect his daughter! He would defeat this outsider! He had to! He had no other choice! He rose up and brandished his spear as though Ghost’s attacks had been nothing to him. There was nothing Ghost could do to do him from here that would shake him—at least, so he thought.

Ghost followed him downwards with a Descending Dark Dive.

Maera was knocked away. He couldn’t skewer them, he couldn’t bludgeon them, he couldn’t even surprise them—he couldn’t hit them! There was nothing in his arsenal that he could use against them! He was going to die here! He was going to die to the hands of an angry child whether he wanted to or not! He looked to his sisters desperately to try and find one among them that would help him—but found none. He looked to his daughter only to see her turn away from him.

_Please,_ he begged the universe, _please, this can’t be how I end!_

“Excuse me!” The Pale King’s voice caught everyone’s attention, “Would anyone like to tell me why my child is fighting with a Mantis Lord?”

_Nevermind, kill me._ Maera thought as he returned to his seat and the cage was raised.

“Your child and their friend challenged Lord Maera to a death battle.” Said one of the Mantis Sisters.

“Ghost and their friend…” Pale King turned and caught sight of the young Grimm for the first time in a long time—a sudden realization hitting him and threatening to crush him with guilt.

The realization that his action yesterday would not have just killed The Nightmare King but the Grimmchild too.

**_Don’t think about it._**

**_Don’t think about it._ **

**_Don’t think about it._ **

****

He had to keep his mind on track. He had to focus on Ghost and what they were doing. He couldn’t divert his attention to the Grimmchild right now any more than he already had in this split second.

“Why did they challenge him?” Pale King inquired.

“For me, Your Majesty.” Kaia interrupted with a bow, “I’m dating your knight, Ze’mer.”

Pale King almost found himself caught up in that alone—the joy that Ze’mer had found someone, “Ze’mer has found a girlfriend?”

“Don’t act as if you do not know!” Maera spat, “You’d planned this from the beginning—didn’t you?!”

“I—no, Maera, I did not,” Pale King shot back, “but I will not pretend that this is anything less than a joyous revelation.”

“Joyous?!” Maera scoffed, “You claim it to be joyous?!”

“Maera, Ze’mer is one of The Five Great Knights of Hallownest.” Pale King said with pride, “She is a fierce warrior and one of the most trusted members of my court. If their relationship is true, this would be a union between kingdoms that most monarchs could only dream of arranging—let alone occurring out of love.”

“I care not for their love, nor for political alliances!” Maera growled, “Ze’mer is an outsider and an enemy!”

“The war is over, Maera, our kingdoms are at peace!” Pale King replied, “Ze’mer is a citizen of Hallownest and a trusted member of my court and to declare her anything less is an insult to myself and my kingdom!”

“Then consider this an insult, _O’ King of Hallownest_!” Maera chuckled cruelly, “Ze’mer is a foreign _traitor_ and I will not accept a union between her and my daughter!”

“She was a _child_!” Pale King pleaded, “Do not forget that _you_ were not the one that she tried to kill!”

“And I think you a fool for taking her in!” Maera shot back, “In fact, if that violent runt is _your_ child then I refuse to waste even a single second more on this conversation!”

“What is that supposed to mean?!” Pale King snarled.

“Why should I waste more of my time on a father that can’t even keep his own child on a leash?” Maera replied smugly.

“Children are not pets, Maera!” Pale King fumed, “Such an attitude is unbefitting of a parent!”

“Excuse me?!” Maera hissed, “What do you know about being a parent, _Wyrm_?!”

“What you’d clearly forgotten!” Pale King balled his fists as he made his retort, “As parents, it is our duty to ensure the health, wellbeing, and happiness of our children! That’s it! No child is responsible for the sins of their parents or their kingdom—our children included! Whatever hang-ups we may have, we have to take a back seat in their lives. It cannot be about us!”

**_YOU LYING SACK OF GARPEDE SHIT!_**

Maera’s own hands curled into fists as he stood against the king, “If you allow this union I will consider it an act of war against The Mantis Tribe!”

“You would start a war, waste thousands of lives, waste precious resources, all because—because what?!” Pale King let out a baffled laugh, “Because you don’t approve of your daughter’s partner?!”

“Don’t act as though you know how I feel!”

“I do know, though!” Pale King moved close to Maera and looked him dead in the eye, letting the grief of his most recent revelation shine through, “You think you’re protecting her but you’re not! You’re merely causing more problems and pain for her without even realizing it!”

“Can I step in for a moment?” The leader of The Mantis Sisters inquired.

“Shut up Marri! Kaia is _my_ daughter!”

“I mean, that’s all well and good, but you just threatened to go to war using _our_ people.” Marri countered, “You can’t just do that without our approval too.”

“What’s your problem with Ze’mer, anyways?” The sister sitting closest to Maera groaned.

“As if you’d know, Maeki!” Maera growled, “You were all children when the war happened!”

“You mean the war that took mom and dad?” The triplet sitting furthest from Maera replied, unenthused, “I feel as though I lived it myself with how much you talk about it.”

“Mai I swear on my spear I will slap you so hard you’ll see mom and dad yourself!”

“Try it, Shit Lord.” Marri laughed, “You’ll have all three of us on your ass in a second—unless Kaia wants to join in, in which case you’ll have the four of us after you!”

“You—grrrr!” Maera realized he was outmatched and glared daggers at The Pale King, “Well, _I_ will never accept their union.”

“I don’t care!” Kaia cried out, catching their attention, “I love Ze’mer and nothing you do will keep me from her! I’ve made up my mind!”

“Kaia, if you do this you revoke your claim to be a Lord of this tribe!” Maera tried desperately to stop her.

“Keep it!” Kaia shot back defiantly, “I don’t need your title or your power! I don’t want to live my life under your thumb and in your shadow!”

“I—you—argh!” Maera leapt from his seat and left towards the treasure room.

“Wow,” Mai mused, “he’s testy today, sorry about that.”

“No, it’s quite alright. I understand his position.” Pale King replied, not noticing Ghost’s growing rage until they too stormed out of the room and back towards Deepnest.

“Ghost!” Grimm cried out to try and get them to come back—but it was to no avail.

Pale King looked over at Grimm before turning his attention back to triplets, “Would you be quite alright with delaying any further discussion until late tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Marri nodded, “We understand.”

“Thank you.” He bowed before heading over to greet Grimm and Kaia.

“Your Majesty,” Kaia greeted softly, “thank you so much for defending me.”

“You needn’t thank me,” Pale King smiled softly, “I intervened of my own volition, and for the inconveniences I may have caused I am more than happy to help you with whatever you may need.”

“Might I—” Kaia hesitated for a moment, “might I be able to stay in Hallownest for the time being? I think I need some time away from here.”

“Of course.” Pale King placed a gentle hand over hers to reassure her, “The Palace has plenty of extra room if you’d wish to stay there—and I’m certain Ze’mer would be happy to have you nearer.”

Kaia beamed and the two gave each other a bow before Pale King turned his attention over to Grimm. Grimm was looking out through the entrance to Deepnest, trying in vain to see where Ghost could’ve gone.

“Excuse me,” Pale King said gently as he kneeled down, catching Grimm’s attention, “I’m certain they’ll be fine, they probably just need some space.”

“But they walked off without saying anything and—” Grimm began to ramble in a panic, “and they were upset when we left the den and—and—and—was it me? Was it something I did? Was it something I didn’t do? I—”

“Hush, child,” Pale King put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, “I can assure you that you’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve been there to support my child and from what I’ve heard you’ve done an excellent job thus far. You are a good friend, and I cannot thank you enough for being there for them.”

“Then why did they leave?”

“I fear the fault for their abrupt departure lies with me.” Pale King looked away for a moment, “My relationship with them is… strained at the moment. I believe my interruption may have angered them.”

“So… it’s not me?” Grimm looked up at him with hopeful eyes.

“No, of course not.” Pale King replied and Grimm immediately pulled him into a hug.

The Pale King was caught off guard for a moment, before noticing how Grimm began to shake, and quickly wrapped his arms around the child to comfort him. Inwardly, The Pale King desperately wished he could punch himself in the face a million times over. To have attempted to kill the child a day ago—only to hug him and offer comfort today—Pale King could not begin to describe how disgusted he was with himself. That he would have tried such a thing without thinking of the consequences.

Though, he supposed that was somewhat of a pattern with him.

Regardless of his inner turmoil, Pale King held a strong front. He had to remain true to his words and beliefs. This could not be about him right now, it had to be about the two children who needed him most right now—Grimm and Ghost. He sucked in a deep breath and gently released Grimm from his hold.

“I’ll go check on Ghost,” Pale King offered Grimm a reassuring smile, “would you be alright with waiting in the den with Kaia for my return? A weaver will be waiting to escort you both.”

Grimm nodded and The Pale King stood, internally preparing himself for whatever may come next.

Ghost didn’t know how long they sat in the dark, staring at the corpse of the nosk they’d killed. They almost wished it was still alive so they could kill it again. They wanted to hurt something—they needed to hurt something. Their joke of a father had interrupted their fight with The Traitor Lord just before they could land a killing blow. Of course he would show up then. Of course he would act all high and mighty. The holier than thou king—so long as you paid no mind to the bodies piled behind him. What a grand farce—what an amazing façade he’d put up. To pretend as though he knew what he was talking about.

To act like he was anything nearing a good father—hell, he would be lucky to even have been a mediocre one!

They growled silently as they heard the distance sound of footsteps.

_Oh great._ Ghost groaned, _He’s probably here to try and dote on me, like if he tries hard enough I’ll just ignore everything he’s done and call him “dad”—hah!_

The Pale King stopped once he entered the room and caught sight of Ghost. He took a cautious step forward, not wanting to intrude more than he already had.

“Ghost,” Pale King said softly, “might we be able to talk?”

Ghost took a moment, taking a deep breath before facing him and signing, “I don’t need—nor do I want—your protection.”

“I—” that caught The Pale King off guard for a moment, but only a moment as he took in a deep breath of his own and answered them, “I apologize. I should have considered what you wanted before rushing in.”

Ghost’s anger began to spike again and they let out a cruel silent laugh. They would get him, here and now, “You must think yourself a good father—with all your talk back there about what the “duty of a parent” is! Do you know where we are right now?!”

“It’s a nosk’s den.” The Pale King answered.

He knew that Ghost had decided that they would take their anger out on him in some fashion. He was the rightful recipient of that rage, after all, so he would face it without complaint or defense. This had to be about their pain—not his. He was the one who’d hurt them, and he had to be the one to accept their anguish in whatever way it manifested.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

Pale King shook his head and waited for their answer, biting back the looming sense of dread threatening to consume him.

“I killed the nosk of this den. Want to know _why_?” Ghost growled and didn’t wait for an answer, “Because this particular nosk stole an egg from The Abyss. If I hadn’t hitched a ride with it what do you suppose would have happened to all of those lovely siblings whose company you’ve been enjoying?”

The Pale King said nothing, but kept his gaze fixed on Ghost.

“They would be dead!” Ghost continued, “Just like all of my siblings at the bottom of The Abyss! Can you rectify that— _O’ Model Father_? Can you give me one good reason why you let all of this happen?! Why you orchestrated it?!”

The Pale King sat down, it didn’t feel right to be physically looking down on them—not when they were right. He drew in a deep breath and answered.

“I can’t.”

“What a pathetic excuse—?!” Ghost paused when his words finally registered within their mind, “Wait—what did you just say?”

“What I did was senseless and cruel, there was no good reason for it. I’m sorry.” Pale King looked down for a moment before forcing his gaze back to Ghost, “I say that not seeking forgiveness—there’s none to be had—but because an apology is the very least on a long list of things that I owe you and your siblings.”

“If you truly believe that then why are you even trying to be a good father?” Ghost stared at him in bewilderment, “What was all that talk of the “duty of a parent” if _you_ can’t even perform to that standard?”

“Can a terrible person not still try to do good things?”

Ghost felt as though something deep within themself had been pierced clean through. His question cut deep within their core and they couldn’t ignore the self-loathing that had started to seep through the crack in their armor. This wasn’t happening. They weren’t about to consider the words of their good-for-nothing father! They weren’t going to let themself be hurt by his words—not inadvertently. They weren’t about to consider that they had _anything_ in common with The Pale King! They weren’t like him. _They_ hadn’t done anything wrong! Not _then_! It wasn’t them. It wasn’t them. It wasn’t them!

**_Don’t think about it._**

**_Don’t think about it._ **

**_Don’t think about it._**

****

Ghost shook their head and focused their attention back at The Pale Bastard, “Explain all of this, then! Explain why you did all of this!”

The Pale King looked at them sadly as he drew in another breath, “There’s a plague. A plague caused by a goddess that I’d killed in cold blood. The fault for such pain was mine, so I searched for a way to fix it. This was the result of that search. Like a fool I latched onto the first solution I could—trying to find any work around I could so that I sacrificed nothing. When I could find none I rationalized away my crimes, believing I was just in my actions. I’d not taken another second to consider what I was doing until it was too late.”

“…” Ghost stood silent for a moment, considering the repentant king, before signing another question, “Tell me what this first plan was.”

“The children of my Root and myself were to be placed in The Abyss to gain the power of Void.” The Pale King began, biting back his self-disgust, “One child would ascend a treacherous climb while another would escape an inescapable pit. The child who ascended the climb would serve as a seal for the light of the angry goddess, trapping her and buying this kingdom time for the child who escaped to gain the strength they needed to come back and defeat her once and for all.”

“…” Ghost readied themself as they stood tall, facing him as a monarch would, “Is that still your plan?”

“No.”

“Then, what is your plan?” Ghost signed with bated breath, “Who will seal her blinding light and defeat her?”

“…” The Pale King let his mask slip for just a moment, offering them a genuine sign of remorse, “I will.”

Ghost felt their heart stop at that. They weren’t the new plan? _They weren’t the new plan?!_ Then why did he—for what purpose—what was his reasoning for doing all of this then?! For trying to get close to them?! For caring for their siblings?!

They couldn’t make sense of this!

“Do you expect me to return should this new plan fail?” Ghost signed in bafflement.

“No.” Pale King answered honestly, “I expect you to take your siblings and flee. I’ve been drafting the evacuation plans with input from Herrah, by the time that this plan is executed they should be finished.”

Ghost felt dizzy, like their world was crashing around them. They needed to get out of here. They needed time to think about this. Their thoughts went full force to the wings on their back and they just couldn’t deal with it right now.

“Do you have any other stupid gifts to give to me then?!” Ghost signed, “Speak now or forever hold your peace!”

“You’re correct. I do have more gifts.” Pale King looked at them sadly and they hated that it hurt, “Three Soul Vessels and four Masks of Protection. I had been saving them for the initial plan, but now I wish for you to take them to stay safe.”

The Pale King offered his hand to Ghost and Ghost considered it for a moment. Considered taking it and accepting him into their life. They’d desperately wanted a family before—a parent to look after them the way The Pale King had been offering. Their fists clenched and they growled again. No! That is not what would happen here!

They took his hand roughly and reluctantly accepted his gift. 

With the transfer done they slapped his hand away and pushed past him, stopping once to look back at him and sign.

“Tell Herrah and Grimm that I’ll be in Dirtmouth for a while.”

The Pale King gave them a nod and let them leave without objection.

Herrah sighed and rolled over in her bed as she looked at her clock. She tried her best to keep it together—but she feared for Ghost. Pale King had said they went to Dirtmouth, but she didn’t like that they were not here in the den this night. Getting the children to bed without them had been an ordeal—but she was thankful that The Pale King had managed to calm them all to sleep with an “Old Wyrm Tale” as he called it. Though, his story sounded suspiciously like the time Pale King and Ogrim had devised a stink bomb in The Battle of the Knotted Grove. Regardless, she accepted that sleep would not find her like this and got up to get herself a glass of water—or perhaps wine. She would decide on the way.

At least, that’s what she thought.

As she made her way into the main room she caught sight of The Pale King alone behind the bar. He had a bottle in one hand and a shot glass in the other. She waited for a moment, watching him knock back another shot before she moved into view.

“I didn’t think you’d be up this late.” Herrah looked him over, trying to assess his condition, “How much have you had to drink?”

“I—uh—” Pale King looked between the bottle and the glass in his hand, “I may have lost count.”

Herrah let out a sigh and took the bottle from his hand—ignoring the protest he tried to put up, “Then I think it’s time I cut you off. Talk to me—what’s going on?”

Pale King looked down at his empty shot glass pensively and Herrah had to bite back a groan. She thought for a moment, trying to think of some way to get through to him.

“Hey, here,” she took one of his hands in her own, “why don’t we step onto the terrace and talk for a moment?”

The Pale King nodded and followed her with his head hung low. He sat down in the same spot he had previously but this time he let himself lie backward onto the soft silk of the ground. Herrah sat next to him and looked at him in concern. She wanted to ask so many things but didn’t know where to begin. Luckily, she wouldn’t have to as he began to talk.

“Why is it that anytime there’s a problem I look for the first solution I can find and run headfirst into it?” Pale King cried out, “As though it would kill me to take even a fraction of a second to consider the consequences of my actions! No, _“consequences be damned”_ I think—until they’re staring me right in the face! Then it’s _“woe is me, how could I have done this?”_ as though just feeling bad will make what I’ve done any less _atrocious_! Why am I like this?!”

Herrah sat in stunned silence. She didn’t know what to say to that—how to unpack all of that. She didn’t know where to begin or how. All she could do is get to the core of what was going on.

“Why is this coming up now?” She asked as she looked at the drunk king.

“…” Pale King looked away before looking back at Herrah, “We can’t destroy The Heart.”

“What?! What do you mean?!”

“If we destroy The Heart we won’t just be destroying The Nightmare King,” Pale King elaborated, “we’d also be killing Grimm.”

“What?!” Herrah looked at him in shock, “Why?! How do you know that isn’t just some lie that The Nightmare King fed to you?!”

Pale King sat up and looked down for a second, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

“Because I’m the one who made it so—I’m the one responsible for The Ritual.”


	14. Support

Grimm groaned slightly as he awoke in a familiar place. He looked around at the comfortable satin bedding he’d been placed upon, spotting his fancy, hand sown plush Grimmkin Nightmare toy, and quickly realized where he was. He immediately shot out of the bed and booked it down the hall towards the growing sound of The Beating Heart. Sure enough, waiting center stage for him with arms open wide, was The Nightmare King.

“Dad!” Grimm cried out happily and jumped into his arms, knocking some of the wind out of The Nightmare King.

The Nightmare King laughed regardless and wrapped his child in a tight embrace, spinning around with him in joy as he laughed, “I’ve missed you so much my darling little pyre!”

The Nightmare King began to smother his child’s face with kisses, causing Grimm to giggle more and push his face away, “Too many kisses!”

“I’m so sorry my dazzling little ember!” The Nightmare King smiled softly, “I so seldom get to see you, I had to make up for the lost time!”

“I want to know what you’ve been doing!” Grimm demanded boldly, “Nightmare stories! Nightmare stories! Nightmare stories!”

“I’m so sorry to disappoint you again my sweet little night terror,” The Nightmare King sighed as he gently rubbed Grimm’s cheek, “but I’m afraid that you’ll have to wait until you’re older to hear these stories.”

“Aw! But dad, I’m a big bug now! I fought in a colosseum!” Grimm pouted and crossed his arms, “You never tell me anything! You know, this lack of communication is how we got the dead bug incident!”

“Oh no! Both the frowny flame and my biggest mistake? My two greatest weaknesses!” The Nightmare King cried out dramatically and placed the back of his hand on his own head, “Spare me, my dear blazing inferno! My poor heart can barely handle it!”

Grimm giggled at his dad’s antics, trying to quickly go back to pouting but failing as The Nightmare King seized the opportunity and began to tickle him. Internally, The Nightmare King was incredibly impressed by his child’s latest guilt trip.

_Quite the cunning move._ The Nightmare King brimmed with pride.

“I’m still so sorry about that my dear sweet child!” The tickles ceased and The Nightmare King pulled Grimm back into a tight embrace, “I wish I hadn’t been so careless! But, as sworn by our pinky promise, never again shall I send you to a Nightmare Lantern without first checking out the bug who’d lit it.”

“Pinky promise me that one day you’ll tell me all the stories you couldn’t tell me now.” Grimm held out his pinky expectantly, lighting up as The Nightmare King took it in one of his own pinkies.

“I promise.” He softly kissed the top of Grimm’s head.

Grimm smiled and laid his head on his dad’s shoulder for a moment before looking back up at him, “Did my dad get to know everything when he was big?”

The Nightmare King’s smile waned a bit and his eyes filled with that sadness again—the look that Grimm asked about so many times but was brushed off with a simple “it’s nothing” each time. The Nightmare King laid another soft kiss on the top of Grimm’s head and tucked it under his chin, holding him closer as he took a deep breath.

“Yes.” It wasn’t technically a lie but The Nightmare King had to bite back the guilt all the same.

Grimm smiled, satisfied with the answer, before feeling pensive again as he clung onto his father and asked another question, “Will you have to go again?”

“Once you awaken, yes.” The Nightmare King looked down, “However, I can be here with you for the rest of the night.”

“Really?” Grimm looked up at him with the brightest smile The Nightmare God had ever seen.

“Of course, it’s why I’m here!” The Nightmare King smiled back, “You’ve been working so hard and you’ve gone through so much these past few days. I’m so proud of you—you’re doing such a wonderful job—but you need to take breaks between such taxing events. So, for the rest of the night, whatever you wish to do we shall do.”

Grimm absolutely beamed and buried his face in his dad’s shoulder, hugging him tighter, “I love you dad.”

The Nightmare King held him just as tight in return, “I love you too, my child.”

“The Nightmare King is dying.” Pale King began to explain, “There’s an injury he’d gotten long before meeting me, a wound in his heart that was never able to heal. It’s left him slowly bleeding out. We’d tried to use my powers to heal it at first—but it didn’t work, so he decided to try… another method…”

**_The Pale Wyrm groaned and stretched as he awoke from his slumber. Distantly, he wondered what Grimm’s new vessel would look like, what form The God of Nightmares would choose to take. He wondered if this plan would work—if he would reform completely healed of all injury._**

****

**_He froze when he heard sobbing coming from the room at the furthest end of the hall._ **

****

**_Cautiously, quietly, he made his way through the hall towards the sound. He felt his heart beating harder and harder against his chest as the cries grew louder and louder. The hallway began to feel smaller and smaller and by the time he neared the room he was practically shaking with fear. He peered around the corner and his heart stopped at what he saw._ **

****

**_The Nightmare King sat in the center of the room, clutching the unmoving form of his newborn child as he wept hopelessly._ **

****

**_The spell had failed._ **

****

**_The child’s black eyes didn’t blink, their small chest neither rose nor fell, and they made not even the faintest sound._ **

****

**_The child in the arms of The Nightmare King was dead._ **

****

**_“Grimm… what…?”_ **

****

**_“I—I don’t know what happened!” The Nightmare King cried, “I did everything right but the spell still backfired and rather than a vessel I’d made a child!”_ **

****

**_The Pale Wyrm was silent for a moment, his heart sinking further as he connected the dots, “The child inherited the same wound… didn’t they?”_ **

****

**_The Nightmare King let out a wail of agony as he clutched the child closer to his chest, “They didn’t have my strength… they lasted only the night before they—before they—!”_ **

****

**_“…” The Pale Wyrm thought for a moment, taking a shaky breath before he spoke again._ **

****

**_“There were… rumors—stories when I was young of powerful wyrms who were able to cheat death and return from the grave… perhaps…”_ **

****

**_The Nightmare King stopped and looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes, “You think we can bring them back.”_ **

****

**_“I’m… uncertain.” The Pale Wyrm answered honestly, “I don’t know if it would work or if you would die in the process of reviving them or if it would backfire and kill all of us—”_ **

****

**_“Anything!” The Nightmare King interrupted with a sob, “Please! Please! If it will bring them back—if it will fix this—I’ll do anything…”_ **

****

**_The Pale Wyrm moved closer to him and wrapped his tail around the desperate god to offer comfort as he nodded, “Alright. I’ll start trying to figure out what we’ll need to do this.”_ **

****

**_“… Before you do I need to ask one more thing of you.” The Nightmare King took deep breaths as he tried to regain some composure, “Should I be unable to care for them… would you look after them in my stead?”_ **

****

**_“Of course.” The Pale Wyrm replied without even a second of hesitation._ **

****

**_“Thank you, , thank you.”_ **

****

“When the child’s old body burns away most of their memories burn away with it and are forever lost to them.” Pale King hugged his knees to his chest, “I was so caught up in what had happened the last time I’d seen both of them that I wasn’t thinking about anything other than saving Ghost when I ran off.”

Herrah didn’t know what to say, this was a lot to take in. She didn’t know if she had the right words and she didn't want to risk doing more damage than what was already there. 

Gently, Herrah wrapped an arm around the remorseful king and pulled him into a side hug, letting out a breath of relief as he accepted and leaned against her.

Ghost looked up at the ceiling of the empty house. No siblings sleeping soundly. No siblings running around tirelessly. Just Ghost, alone, lying on the floor of the empty living room. They hated this. They hated that they felt like this. Like someone had ripped out their heart in front of them.

They hated that they were alone.

They hated that they chose to be alone.

**_You hate that you deserve to be alone._**

_Stop it._ Ghost tried to tell themself, _Stop thinking about it._

All of this was the fault of The Pale King. They wouldn’t be like this if it wasn’t for him. If it wasn’t for his foolish ambitions and worthless regrets. He was the root of all of their problems—and yet here they were, wishing that he was here with them.

_He is not—nor will he ever be—our “dad”._ They had to remind themself.

They had to remind themself of the dead siblings in The Abyss. They had to remind themself that he willingly left them to a life of suffering and struggle. They had to remind themself that he didn’t _care_ the first time. He didn’t care about _them_.

They didn’t want to think about the Mask Shards.

They didn’t want to think about the Soul Fragments.

**They did not want to think about The Monarch Wings.**

They let loose an Abyss Shriek just to get something—anything—out of their system. They hated this. They hated The Pale King.

They hated themself.


	15. Small Comforts

**_Herrah withdrew her greatneedle from the dead body of her king. She looked at the corpse in horror at what had just transpired. She looked at her shaking hands, wondering what she’d just done—what she’d just been able to do. She was just a knight. She was just a knight to the king. The king had been the one with all of the power—all of the magic. Even under the thrall of Blackwyrm, she should have been outmatched by the king._**

****

**_She should have been outmatched, right?_ **

****

**_Yet, there she stood, victorious. Was the victory really hers though? She remained uncertain. Blackwyrm’s influence had to be it. That had to be what led to her victory. Their king had been strong and stern and powerful and she couldn’t have been the one to best him. She was just a common beast. She could have been anyone. She was strong—sure—but to best such a powerful figure…_ **

****

**_… She couldn’t begin to consider it. She tried to tamp down on the growing anxieties that began to rush through her. It was then that she noticed the cries of the servants—distraught at the death of their king and uncertain of the future._ **

****

**_“The King! The King!”_ **

****

**_“What will we do now?!”_ **

****

**_“We must give ourselves up to Blackwyrm! He was the one who took our king! He could take us too!”_ **

****

**_“No! We must flee! We must flee!”_ **

****

**_“No!” Herrah called out, “We must stay and we must fight!”_ **

****

**_“But… Sir Herrah…”_ **

****

**_“Who will lead us?!”_ **

****

**_Herrah took a deep breath and stood tall. She had to focus on what mattered right now. She could not falter, she could not budge, she could not show weakness—she had to keep everything together. She had to be the one to support her people. She had to be the leader they deserved. She had to live up to role she was about to take._ **

****

**_She did this._ **

****

**_She was the one who killed the king._ **

****

**_She had to be the one to step up and fix this._ **

****

**_“I will.”_ **

****

Herrah looked at The Pale King, her mind uncertain. Was she supposed to say something? Was she supposed to just continue to hold him silently? She wanted to help, but the solution in this situation was unclear.

She was Queen Herrah of Deepnest.

She had been Sir Herrah the Beast.

She’s still just… Herrah.

She didn’t know what to say to him, and she didn’t trust herself not to make a mistake in the absence of certainty. So, she did what she had always done in these situations—she remained silent on the subject and opted to find some other way to help.

“It’s pretty late,” Herrah spoke, “I think after the day we’ve had we should probably get some sleep.”

“No—!” Pale King blurted out, immediately flushing with embarrassment at his mistake.

“What? Why—?” Herrah leaned in and got a good look at his face, noting the growing bags under the king’s eyes, and gasped, “When was the last time you slept?”

“I—uh—well—” Pale King looked around nervously before looking back at Herrah, “I fainted for an hour yesterday if that counts?”

Herrah looked at him in stunned silence for a moment, “And before that?”

“I am… uncertain…” Pale King said with a small voice as he looked away, “Perhaps not since I’d removed my wings.”

Herrah could not believe what she was hearing. How did this sleep deprived bastard expect to do anything?! Distantly, however, she also felt a sense of relief. This was a problem with a clear solution. A wrong she could easily right.

“Okay, you _really_ need to go to sleep.” Herrah said, “You have the meeting tomorrow with Monomon, Lurien, and all of your Great Knights.”

“No, Herrah, please,” he pleaded, “if I go to sleep I’ll be susceptible to either **_her_** light or **_his_** fire and I know not what will happen if either of them get their hands on me!”

“Well, how about this,” Herrah began to offer, “you can crash with me in my bed and if either of them try to puppeteer you I’ll smack you really hard with my needle until you snap out of it. Sound good?”

“I—well—I—” Pale King looked around again nervously, “I couldn’t impose.”

Herrah assessed him for a moment, assessing his lack of a concrete answer and his refusal to think of a solution with her, before her eyes widened in realization, “What’s the real reason behind this? Why don’t you want to go to bed?”

The Pale King froze and met her gaze with wide eyes of his own before he looked away shamefully.

“Tomorrow is my confession to everyone.” He began, “I know not how things will go, nor what will happen, and… I’m scared. I’m scared of the uncertainty tomorrow holds. So please, please allow me to prolong tonight?” 

Herrah once again felt at a loss. She knew he needed sleep, but she also understood his reluctance. She thought of a compromise, uncertain of whether or not it would help, but determined to do something.

“Alright, but only if you’ll let me stay up with you.”

“I—but Herrah, you need sleep too!” Pale King gasped, “I do not wish to force you to stay awake.”

“Hah! Force me?” Herrah laughed, “This is my kingdom, you can’t force me to do shit! Hell, you couldn’t force me to do shit anyways if you tried. No, I _want_ to stay up with you. I don’t want you to have to be alone.”

To Herrah’s surprise, Pale King hugged her, burying his face in her side as he spoke, “Thank you.”

Herrah smiled and hugged him back, letting out a soft laugh, “Don’t thank me yet, I’ve been told I’m a terrible conversationalist.”

“That’s good, I’m probably worse.” Pale King chuckled. 

Grimm rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he woke up. He was sad that his father was gone, but he was happy that he got to spend time with him. He grabbed his Grimmkin Novice plush toy and hugged it to his chest as he walked towards the kitchen where Brumm was cooking. He let out a yawn and looked up at Brumm, smiling when he smelled something delicious.

“Good morning, little master!” Brumm smiled at him, “I’m making your favorite.”

“Spicy cherry waffles!” Grimm giggled with glee and hugged Brumm’s leg.

Brumm let out a laugh and gently pat Grimm’s head before Grimm went to sit down at the table. He then felt a sudden pang of loneliness as he recalled the events of yesterday. Ghost had seemed so distraught, perhaps they needed a break too. He hopped off of his seat, causing Brumm to look over at him in surprise.

“Brumm, do you think you might be able to make extra waffles?” Grimm asked, “I’m going to go over to Ghost’s house and invite them to breakfast.”

“Of course, little master.” Brumm nodded, “Just promise me that you’ll take an umbrella, it’s raining outside.”

“I pinky promise!” Grimm beamed as he quickly darted into his room to set down his plush and grab his umbrella.

He twirled his umbrella as he made his way to Ghost’s house, hesitating as he stared at their door. Would they be happy to see him? Would they be angry that he was there? Would they still be upset? They hadn’t said anything to Grimm, they’d just told The Pale King to inform him of their whereabouts—which was… good, right? That they wanted him to stay informed on their location? Or, perhaps, that would work against him. They might have only told him under the assumption that he wouldn’t bother them.

Either way, he was here now, and he would have to find out for himself.

Cautiously, he knocked on the door.

He waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until…

Ghost opened the door with a blanket wrapped around themself. They looked absolutely terrible—as though they didn’t sleep a wink. Grimm had to suppress a gasp of horror at the state they were in. They looked exhausted and angry and sad. He bit his tongue—he was here to try and _help_ them, not make them feel worse about themself. He offered them a bright and cheery smile.

“Hi Ghost!” He grinned and offered them his hand, “Brumm’s making breakfast and I was wondering if you would—by chance—be interested in eating breakfast with us?”

Ghost looked at him in utter disbelief. Their mind was going a million miles a minute and they’d spent the night caught in a spiral of absolute self-hatred, yet here Grimm was—smiling, offering food, offering company.

_Fuck it._

“Yeah, sure.” Ghost signed as they dropped the blanket unceremoniously on the ground and took his hand, trying to ignore the fact that they felt less lonely like this, with him letting out a squeal of glee.

Grimm was genuinely excited and happy to be around them.

They ignored the pang of hurt and regret that shot through them at that fact.

**_“How come Holly gets to bring Sir Tikky to breakfast but I have to leave my toy nail in the room?”_** Spike whined.

**_“Because Big Sib isn’t here to keep you from destroying everything again.”_** Kin answered as they shoveled a pancake into their mouth, **_“So, as the de facto Big Sib, I declare you banned from bringing the toy nail to the table.”_**

****

**_“Hmm.”_** Spike thought for a moment before getting an idea, **_“Well, Sir Tikky is a knight, right Holly?”_**

****

**_“Mhmm!”_** Hollow beamed, **_“Dad helped me knight them with a butter knife at breakfast! They are now Sir Tikky the Brave!”_**

****

**_“Well, as a knight, they’d need a nail, right?”_** Spike smirked.

**_“No!”_** Hollow hugged Sir Tikky to their chest protectively, **_“Sir Tikky wouldn’t want to hurt anyone! Sir Tikky is there to protect their friends and offer comfort to their enemies!”_**

****

**_“Hah!”_** Kin laughed victoriously as Spike deflated, **_“Better luck next time Spikes!”_**

****

**_“Sir Tikky needs a shield then!”_** Green smiled, **_“Once we learn sign language I want to ask mama Herrah if she'll teach me how to weave, so I can make one for them as my first weaver project.”_**

****

Herrah chugged back her coffee as she and The Pale King watched the children eat. She looked over at him and caught his absentminded expression, gently handing him a cup of coffee to snap him out of it.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked.

“Ah, apologies, I was just lost in thought.” He replied.

“What were you thinking about?” Herrah asked curiously.

“Well, aside from today’s meeting,” Pale King chuckled nervously, “I was thinking about how today the children will start their lessons to learn Hallownest Sign. It’s weird, I’m both excited and terrified that soon they’ll be able to communicate with me… I—what if I screw this up?”

“I think you mean what if _we_ screw this up?” Herrah chuckled and nudged his shoulder, “You’re their dad, I’m their mom, we’re in this together.”

The Pale King visibly relaxed and Herrah smiled, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as she pulled him into a side hug as they watched the kids.

They both tried to bite down their worry over where Ghost was and what they were doing.


	16. Of Past and Present

The king never smiled anymore, the first kingsmould thought sadly as they stood guard outside of the palace. Everything was different these days—such a far cry from when they first came into the world. How they yearned for the warmth of those early days—so carefree and excited.

**_The first thing they registered was that they were alive—that they had been brought into the world. Void given a form. Then the cast that had been used to give them shape was opened and they were greeted by the smiling face of their creator. Their creator was brimming with pride and excitement as he looked them over._**

****

**_“It worked!” He laughed, “Welcome to the world… oh dear, I need to give you a name.”_ **

****

**_They didn’t understand some of these words or concepts, but they felt happy at seeing their creator so happy. They felt happy that his attention was focused on them._ **

****

**_“Hm,” He thought aloud, “I based your mold off of myself, and I’m The Pale King, but you’re made of void so “Palemould” won’t really apply… so, how about “Kingsmould”? Yes! You are a kingsmould! Perfect!”_ **

****

**_They liked that. Their creator had given them a name. Their creator was happy. They were happy._ **

****

**_Why was their creator getting bigger?_ **

****

**_“Oh—oh no!” His expression turned panicked and he began scrambling around the messy workshop for something, “Oh no, you’re melting. Oh dear, oh dear—I can fix this! I—ah—aha!”_ **

****

**_He quickly moved back over to them with a large jar that would be big enough to fit them. He quickly placed it under their melting form, some of their void getting on two of his hands in the process as they tried to keep most of themself together. They looked at him from their place in the jar and he let out a nervous sigh._ **

****

**_“Well,” He said to himself as he looked at his hands, “having three void stained hands isn’t so bad—all things considered. Void is relatively harmless—at least, I think. I am a Pale Being, so perhaps I’m just resistant to any ill effects it may cause. I also have not tried drinking it but I doubt I’ll ever get the chance because that is a terrible idea and my Root would most definitely kill me—oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no.”_ **

****

**_They watched as their creator furiously tried to scrub the new void from his hands in vain. He looked even more panicked now, and they didn’t know why but they were compelled to try and protect him from whatever was causing him distress. He let out a concerned whine as he realized that the void stains weren’t coming out._ **

****

**_“Oh no, I’m dead. I’m going to die again. She is going to kill me.” He began to ramble, “I promised her I wouldn’t do anything reckless again and yet here I am with two more hands that are black as the void sea. I really need to work on a material that void can’t soak through to prevent these mistakes—wait that’s it!”_ **

****

**_Their creator turned back to them with the same excitement on his face that they had first been greeted with. They were almost startled by the abrupt shift._ **

****

**_“If I made a material that held void in place—in shape—it would stabilize your form!” He exclaimed and laughed happily, picking up their jar and placing it on his table as he moved some schematics out of the way to make room for blank parchment._ **

****

**_They watched as he worked tirelessly through the night, trying to figure out the right material composition and the right sigils to use. Every so often he would stop to talk to them, and while they never answered back, they enjoyed the conversations nonetheless. They enjoyed their creator’s excitement and the care he took into trying to figure out how to craft them a stable form._ **

****

**_He cared about them._ **

****

**_They were cared for._ **

****

These days their creator passed by them without acknowledgment. Somewhere deep inside of them it hurt to be ignored this way. They knew that he was busy and that they had a purpose to fulfill, but they still yearned desperately for the days where he would talk to them. They wished there was something they could do to go back to those days—to go back to the way things were.

They knew that there wasn’t, though.

However, there was another bug who’d started to give them attention. They were a noble bug who used to just enjoy walking past the palace—until one fateful day, that is. They’d stopped to admire the first kingsmould and let a compliment slip aloud. When they seemed to respond to that, their eyes crinkling as though they were smiling, the noble bug let out a laugh of surprise. They asked the kingsmould if they could understand them, and the kingsmould nodded. Ever since that day, the noble bug would come back to visit them—to talk to them.

To give them the attention and affection they so desperately craved.

The Pale King tried to steady his breath as he faced the door to the meeting room. He looked up at Herrah and she gently took one of his hands and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He nodded silently. He could do this. He had to do this. They all deserved the truth. They all deserved to know what was going on. They all deserved to know what kind of person he really was.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

Everyone’s attention turned to him and he resisted the urge to flinch. He gave everyone a bow.

“Thank you all for meeting with me today.” He kept his voice even as he entered the room.

He tried to will his heart to stop pounding as he sat down, ready to accept whatever his friends would do once his confession was done.

Hollow was picking up reading and writing incredibly fast. While they were at the same level as their siblings when it came to their introduction to Hallownest Sign, something about writing felt… familiar? It was almost like they’d done this before somewhere, in a distant memory. It felt so familiar, yet at the same time so different. Like something was wrong.

How did they know this?

This was obviously the first time their siblings had learned to write—however both Kin and Green had picked up reading incredibly fast. Hollow wondered if they had also felt it—felt something familiar about this. They would have asked them about it if not for—

“Hey Hollow, who’s Holly?” Quirrel asked them curiously.

“Nickname.” Hollow wrote with a smile, “Siblings gave it to me.”

“Whoa.” Quirrel smiled brightly, “That’s so cool! Can I get a nickname too?”

Their instructor was baffled when all of the void children shot up and quickly huddled around Quirrel.

**_“Holly you should write Quirry!”_** Mimic grinned.

**_“No, no, no!”_** Kin shook their head, **_“He needs something better! Something original—Holly what are you writing?”_**

****

**_“He was my friend first.”_** Hollow pouted, **_“I want to give the nickname!”_**

****

**_“Aw, sorry Holly.”_** Both Kin and Mimic apologized at the same time.

**_“So what nickname are you settling on?”_**

Hollow smiled and looked over at Quirrel.

The room was silent in light of The Pale King’s confession and he held his hands together in apprehension. The air was thick with tension and everyone was waiting to see what the others would do. For a moment it was as though time stood still. For a moment everyone held their breath. For a moment there was complete silence. 

Then Ogrim stood and made his way over to the king.

The Pale King felt his heart shatter at the thought of Ogrim leaving him—but he knew it would be for the best. Ogrim was such a kind, pure soul and Pale King knew he was undeserving of such a wonderful friend. He readied himself for whatever Ogrim would do or say, knowing that this would be the last moment the two ever saw each other.

Then Ogrim knelt down and presented The Defender’s Crest to the king.

“Do you remember how this charm was made?”

The Pale King was stunned for a moment before he found his voice again, looking at the charm fondly, “Yes, in The Knotted Grove. We’d won the day, but in their retreat they launched a final attack my way. I was too distracted to notice it until it was too late and you—you stepped in front of it to save me…”

**_“Ogrim!” The Pale King cried out and rushed to his friend’s side, “Ogrim! Ogrim what—why—you—!”_**

****

**_“It was… going to… hit you…” Ogrim strained to get out, “I couldn’t… I wouldn’t… let it… let them…”_ **

****

**_“But you—I don’t—why—?” Pale King felt tears begin to fall from his eyes, “Why would you do that?”_ **

****

**_“For kingdom… and for king… I would… give everything…”_ **

****

**_The Pale King sat stunned at the knight’s words. How could someone be so dedicated to him—how could someone risk their life for him specifically? He was overcome with grief and panic. He was out of soul. He didn’t have enough to heal Ogrim._ **

****

**_His friend was going to die because of him._ **

****

**_No…_ **

****

**_No!_ **

****

**_He wasn’t going to let Ogrim die like this._ **

****

**_Not when it should have been him instead!_ **

****

**_For the kingdom, for his people, for Ogrim…_ **

****

**_For everyone, he would give everything._ **

****

**_He took Ogrim’s hands and focused. He knew that this act would diminish his power—but he didn’t care. Whatever it took, whatever he had to give up, he would save Ogrim._ **

****

**_He focused on transferring the soul that resided within himself—his own lifeforce—to heal Ogrim._ **

****

**_He focused, hoping that this would work._ **

****

**_Hoping that he would be able to save his friend._ **

****

**_A familiar glow of focus swirled around them and Ogrim’s wounds began to heal. Ogrim looked at his king with wide eyes, noticing the king’s glow grow weaker and weaker while Ogrim grew stronger and stronger._ **

****

**_Ogrim gasped, “Your Majesty—why?”_ **

****

**_The Pale King gave him a soft smile, “For my kingdom, for my people, for my friends, I must give everything. As king, it is my duty—?”_ **

****

**_It was then that The Pale King noticed a charm in his hands. It wasn’t there before he healed Ogrim. He looked it over curiously as Ogrim’s attention diverted to it. The charm looked like Ogrim had before joining by his side as one of his Great Knights, and it emitted the same smell that Ogrim did._ **

****

**_“What is that?” Ogrim asked curiously._ **

****

**_“A charm… a heroic crest for my most loyal knight.” The Pale King smiled and offered it to him, “For Dear Ogrim the Defender.”_ **

****

Ogrim smiled and placed the crest back on his armor and offered Pale King his hand. The Pale King began to tear up and gently took the hand of his dear friend.

“I do not believe that you hold ill in your heart, Your Majesty.” Ogrim smiled softly and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “As your friend, I will never stop believing in you. I will be by your side until the very end.”

“Ogrim…”

“I’m with Ogrim!” Isma shot up.

“Isma…”

“Nym’King took Che’ in, nym’King took Che’s love in. Che’s nail is with Le’mer.” Ze’mer said proudly.

“Ze’mer…”

“Where else will I find such a funny group to joke with? No, I’m staying right here with all of you.” Hegemol laughed and The Pale King let out a teary-eyed laugh with him.

“Hegemol…”

“I could be persuaded to stay—if you promise to fund my next research project.” Monomon smirked and Pale King began to laugh harder.

“You know I’d fund your research anyways, you needn’t ask.”

“I know, but you’re fun to tease.” Monomon chuckled.

Lurien wanted to join in—wanted to forgive him and laugh with everyone. He wanted so desperately to ignore the bitter taste of betrayal he felt at the hands of his own best friend—but he couldn’t. The Pale King lied to him—lied to his face. He couldn’t forget that. He couldn’t forgive that. Even if he could begin to understand why, he couldn’t let it go so soon. He turned to Herrah.

“And are you still going to stick with this?” Lurien asked, “With him?”

“Yes.” Herrah answered honestly, a look of concern crossing her face.

Lurien let out a huff and stood up, catching everyone’s attention.

“I’m sorry, but…” Lurien took a deep breath to try and keep his composure, “I can’t—I just can’t.”

“I—I understand.” The Pale King nodded as he once again felt his heart start to break, “I’m so sorry… if there is anything that you need—at any point—I will gladly help.”

“…” Lurien was silent for a moment before letting out a breath, “I think I just need time to think about this.”

“Of course.” The Pale King got up and gave Lurien a bow, saying nothing further as The Watcher left the palace.

However long it took, whatever Lurien chose, The Pale King would wait for him. He would wait for the best friend he’d hurt so deeply.


	17. Someone to Depend On

**_Drunken laughter echoed throughout The Watcher’s Spire. Lurien and The Pale King sat on the floor in the middle of a room filled with paintings. The Watcher looked at his friend with baffled amusement as he tried to calm his laughter enough to respond to the king’s absurd idea._ **

****

**_“You’re the king!” Lurien cried out as he began to laugh more, “I couldn’t—”_ **

****

**_“As king, I rule—” The Pale King stood up, wobbling a little bit but ultimately keeping his balance as he stretched his arms out in a dramatic gesture, his cloak swaying, “I rule that it is perfectly legal to paint on the king!”_ **

****

**_“Higher Beings, no—” Lurien giggled as he tried to protest the idea._ **

****

**_“Encouraged, even!” The Pale King exclaimed before he too fell back into a fit of laughter._ **

****

**_“What if someone saw you like that?!” Lurien let out a shocked chuckle, “With paint everywhere?!”_ **

****

**_“It would be the start of a new trend!” The Pale King cackled, “The body becomes a canvas!”_ **

****

**_“You are ridiculous.” Lurien laughed._ **

****

**_“We can even start with my face!” The Pale King giggled and sat back down, moving closer to Lurien, “Your work on display for all to see!”_ **

****

**_“I don’t know…” Lurien’s face flushed at that idea._ **

****

**_“Please? I think it will be really fun!” Pale King pleaded, “I promise I’ll be a good canvas! I’ll be still as a statue!”_ **

****

**_“I mean, are you sure you want my work on your body?” Lurien looked at him with apprehension, “I know it can be washed off eventually, but still—”_ **

****

**_“What are you talking about?!” Pale King looked at him in surprise, “You’re an amazing artist! I would be honored to be your canvas!”_ **

****

**_“Are you sure?”_ **

****

**_“Of course!” The Pale King said without missing a beat, placing a hand over Lurien’s, “I trust you.”_ **

****

**_I trust you._ **

****

_Liar._ Lurien thought as he looked at the mask in his hands—the mask The Pale King had gifted him.

The Pale King’s words echoed in Lurien’s mind and he felt his heart shatter more and more. His friend had been lying to him the whole time—and he had to find out about it in a meeting with everyone else! A meeting that he’d been summoned to not by Pale King—no, he was summoned by _Herrah_! What happened? Where did everything go so horribly wrong between them?! Was there something that Lurien did wrong? Did Pale King just not care about him anymore?!

_Did The Pale King ever care about me?_

Lurien felt his blood boil and he threw the mask across the room, shattering it against a wall. It felt good, at first, to watch that mask crumble—to destroy that nasty reminder of The Pale King. But, that feeling of satisfaction left as soon as it came, and in its absence Lurien only felt the overwhelming pain of betrayal and regret.

Lurien sank to his knees and began to cry.

Something was calling to Ghost from The Queen’s Garden. They didn’t know how or why but they felt the call nonetheless. They didn’t want to go just yet. They didn’t know how they knew, but somehow they knew that nothing good would come from following that call. Yet, at the same time they felt as though they _had_ to answer that call eventually. That the call would continue until they had no choice. For now, though, they wished to take a break. They didn’t want to think about anything for a while. For now, they would spend time with Grimm.

Ghost watched Grimm practice controlling various flame spells curiously. They knew that his attacks would take time to learn and perfect—however there was a certain elegance to the process that they noticed as Grimm practiced. They could tell that he was putting a lot of focus into each attack—yet he seemed to display an air of effortlessness with each movement. They hadn’t realized that they were staring as intensely as they were until Grimm stopped and turned to them.

“Is something wrong?” Grimm’s voice filled with concern, “Is the fire getting to be too much?”

“No—no,” Ghost frantically signed back, “I just—the way you handle your magic is interesting is all.”

“Oh! Really?” Grimm cocked his head, “I thought it was pretty normal.”

“What do you mean?” Ghost looked at him curiously.

“Well, I figured all magic was like this.” Grimm shrugged, “I thought that everyone would have to figure out their own balance.”

Ghost looked even more confused and Grimm giggled at their expression.

“My father said that the key to the power of flame was figuring out the best balance for me.” Grimm explained, “Fear and fire are very similar. Too much fire and you’ll end up consumed by it—however, too little and you’ll end up freezing. Too much fear and you’d find yourself stuck in place—however, too little and you could end up doing something that’s far too deadly. Not to mention that fear is needed to feel excitement, and if I lost that feeling I’d be really sad!”

Ghost ignored the nagging feeling that ran through them at Grimm’s words. They were here to relax—to take a break. They weren’t going to think about anything. They were just going to relax. Their problems only existed outside of this tent. They didn’t have to face anything in here. Everything was fine. They were fine.

“I think fire is just unique.” Ghost lied and ignored the guilt they felt as Grimm believed them.

Herrah looked at The Pale King from across the table as they both went through the different proposals and paperwork that had been neglected for the past few days. He’d looked so sad ever since Lurien walked out and she once again was at a loss for what to do or what to say. She wanted to find some way to help—something she could do. She tried her best to steady her nerves as she spoke, trying to ignore the growing uncertainty rising within.

“I’m sure Lurien will come around…”

The Pale King looked up at Herrah sadly, “I—thank you, but, that’s not what I’m worried about—I mean, in part it is, but it’s not my main concern.”

“Ah.” Herrah bit back a feeling of guilt, worrying that she’d worsened things, “What are you worried about, then? If I might ask, that is.”

“I really hurt him…” The Pale King looked away, “I was so caught up in my own problems that I forgot to consider his feelings—Higher Beings, just like how I haven’t been considering your feelings.”

Herrah began to feel nervous as Pale King turned to her with wide eyes. She had to keep her composure. Right now he needed someone, and she had decided to take up that duty. She had to remain strong as always. People needed her—they needed her to rely on. She had a duty to be there to support others.

“Herrah, I’ve done nothing but vent my problems on you,” The Pale King’s expression turned to one of concern, “I’ve not once asked if I’d overwhelmed you.”

“It’s fine, really,” Herrah said nervously, “I’m strong, I can handle it.”

“I do not doubt your strength,” The Pale King gently reached across the table and placed a hand on hers, “however, I do not wish to cause you harm or distress.”

“You need someone to depend on.” Herrah countered, “I’m willing to be there for you.” 

“Who is there for you to depend on, then?”

Herrah fell silent and looked down. She never wanted her people to see her falter and her dedication to her kingdom left her with few friends. She could have spoken to Vespa about her thoughts and insecurities, but there she feared that Vespa might think less of her. She really did try to stand as the sole rock for others to lean on. The Pale King got up and moved over to her.

“Someone very strong and very wise once told me that everyone deserves to have someone.” The Pale King let out a soft chuckle, “You’ve done so much to help me, if you would be alright with it, I’d be more than happy to do the same for you.”

“But what if you get overwhelmed—what if you need me and I can’t help?” Herrah looked at him with worry, “I’m not the best at conveying what I feel—what if I lie and say that I’m fine?”

“Hm,” The Pale King thought for a moment, “I—perhaps we can devise a sort of code system, like a color system perhaps? We can assign a different meaning to different colors to convey what we need without having to say it outright.”

“I—I think I would like that, actually.” Herrah smiled, “Can I start by assigning a color?”

“Of course.” The Pale King smiled back.

“Yellow: overwhelmed but willing to listen.”

“Alright, I’ll go next.” Pale King gently placed a hand back over hers, “Blue: sad and/or wishing to lament but not in immediate need.”

“So, what do we do now?” Herrah asked.

“Well, we could assign the rest of the colors—or…” The Pale King smirked mischievously.

“Oh no, or what?” Herrah was both curious and terrified of whatever Pale King would suggest.

“There’s a fountain in the courtyard.” The Pale King grinned, “Tell me, have you ever splashed a king?”

Herrah looked at him for a second before she burst out laughing, “You’re kidding!”

“Nope!” The Pale King chuckled, “What’s the point of having a fountain if you can’t play in it?”

“What about all of the work we still have left to do?!” Herrah let out a baffled laugh.

“Work later, play now. You deserve a break.” The Pale King giggled and offered her his hand, “What do you say?”

“Fuck it, I’m in!” Herrah cackled and took his hand, “However, I’m pretty sure your servants are going to blame me for this.”

“Oh, no, trust me,” The Pale King giggled, “this is not the first time I’ll have been caught playing in the fountain.”

Herrah did not know if that was better or worse as she let him lead her to the courtyard. As they made their way to the fountain she noticed a couple of retainers shake their head, as though they knew what was going to happen. However, she also picked up on a seeming sense of relief emanating from all of them. The Pale King let go of her hand and hopped in the water without a second thought, causing Herrah to let out another surprised laugh. This was really happening. The King of Hallownest was really in the fountain. He moved over to the other end of it and sat down, smiling at Herrah.

“It’s a little cold, but otherwise fine.” He grinned, “Come! Join me!”

Herrah could not believe she’d agreed to this, but nonetheless she took a running start and jumped in. The impact from her entry caused the water to rise and splash Pale King. The Pale King laughed and splashed her back, starting a splash fight that he would inevitably lose. Herrah was much larger than he was and by the end of it she still had some spots untouched by the water while The Pale King sat completely soaked. Herrah was surprised, she also felt much better than she had before doing this. She looked over at Pale King and caught the knowing look in his eyes. She chuckled and shook her head.

“Thank you.” She said softly.

“I’m glad I could help.” The Pale King smiled.

“Sire!” A retainer rushed into the courtyard, “There’s been an issue with Captain Xero! He fell asleep yesterday in The Colosseum of Fools and hasn’t woken since!”

_Oh no._


	18. A Moth And A Light

“Have… at… thee!” Xero panted and on one hand Radiance couldn’t help but feel bad for the moth—on the other, though, she hoped this would be a great opportunity to get him to leave.

“Listen, you’re obviously worn out,” she tried, “why don’t you just leave this place, yeah?”

“Never!” He cried out as he sent his four glowing nails in her direction, “Not until you have been vanquished!”

Radiance sighed and dodged out of the way with ease. Oh, how tempted she was to break him and be done with this. It wouldn’t be difficult, just a few attacks and he would be gone. However, in her current predicament that wasn’t an option. The risk that any of her attacks would break his mind was far too great for what she was trying to accomplish at the moment. Not to mention the fact that if she _did_ break the mind of this violent idiot there was no telling what he would do. This situation would have been perfect for her back when she was trying to take down The Pale King—however, given her current goal this was an absolute nightmare. He would not leave of his own volition and she couldn’t force him without taking a tremendous risk.

She didn’t know what she was going to do. If things kept up this way he was going to die!

Her heart stopped when the Wyrm entered the colosseum. If he checked Xero for signs of infection he’d surely kill the moth! The moths had been hers—not his—and she was certain that he would kill Xero without a second thought once he found him in this state! She had killed his own followers mercilessly—she knew that he would do the same to one of her own and now she would have to watch firsthand as it happened because of her carelessness!

“I told him,” The Pale Champion groaned as she led the two monarchs to the newly established infirmary, “I told him that he’s not allowed to be here, but _no_ , he said “what the king doesn’t know won’t hurt him” which would be fine if the rule was there for a petty reason! But, like an idiot I told him that I wouldn’t rat him out so long as he didn’t sleep here at any point—then what does he decide to do?! He decides he’s going to take a little nap—like my ass being on the line doesn’t mean shit to him!”

“I understand your frustration Pala, you’re not in trouble.” The Pale King rubbed his hands nervously, “However, I—did he show signs of infection?”

“Yeah,” she let out a disheartened sigh, “first bug to get it in weeks and it had to be Xero.”

They stopped at the entrance to the infirmary and he looked inside, seeing only Xero lying on one of the beds. The colosseum doctor quickly rushed to greet the king and queen.

“Your Majesties!” They gave them a bow, “Xero seems stable, however for some reason he remains unconscious.”

“Ah,” he looked down, “would you both allow me a moment alone with him?”

Both the doctor and Pala nodded and promptly left the room. The Pale King let out a sigh of relief before turning back to Herrah.

“Do you want me to go too?” She asked.

“No—no, I don’t want to face this alone—if you’d be okay with accompanying me, that is.” He looked at her sadly.

Herrah chuckled softly and put a hand on his shoulder, offering him a determined smile as he placed a grateful hand over hers. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to where Xero lay. He carefully checked one of his eyes, his heart sinking.

This couldn’t be real.

This couldn’t be happening.

But it was.

He looked at the telltale glow of the infection burning bright in his eyes and let out a horrified gasp. He noticed Herrah tense behind him and he felt an overwhelming hopelessness at the situation before him.

“No—no!” He cried out as tears began to fall from his eyes.

He had trained Xero.

He had looked after Xero.

_Why did it have to be Xero?!_

“How—how dare you! You fool—you hotheaded imbecile—you traitor!” He grabbed Xero as he sobbed, startling Herrah, “Why couldn’t you have just listened to me for once?!”

Herrah watched as The Pale King deflated and crumpled into a sobbing heap on Xero’s chest. She moved over to place a gentle hand on his back. She knew losing someone was never easy—especially someone who’d been close.

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry. The fault is mine, I—” The Pale King looked up and clutched one of Xero’s hands, “I should have told you—you should have known—I’m so sorry, Xero! Please, please come back.”

Xero’s body remained unmoving and The Pale King held Xero’s hand to his chest as he wept.

“Please. Please. Am I fated to lose you as well?”

The Pale King felt his heart sink at the prospect that Xero would remain infected. Even in the husk of a void creature—there was always a nonzero possibility that one would become too infected to control themself. Would he—

Would he have to kill Xero?

Would Xero awaken completely under her thrall?

He felt sick at the very thought.

“Please come back, Xero.” He begged.

Radiance didn’t know what to make of what she was hearing from the waking world—from Xero’s body. Why was the Wyrm begging for Xero to come back—he was clearly infected! He was an infected moth! The Pale Wyrm couldn’t possibly care about one such as him. If he was no longer going to be of use, then why was the Wyrm so keen to try and keep him around? The moths had been hers! They belonged to her! They were not his!

She stopped for a moment.

She had always assumed that he had wrongfully pulled her moths under his thrall. That as a wyrm he’d used his power to control them and pull them away from her. That had to have been it, hadn’t it? However, if that were the case, then why hadn’t he used that power to keep his people safe from her infection. She thought she was doing to his people what he’d done to hers—but this moth was not under his thrall. He hadn’t killed Xero—he was weeping for him. Was it possible that her moths had left to follow him on their own? But why would they leave her light? She would keep them where they could be safe. She would keep them protected forever. They would never have to fight. They would never have to do anything. She could keep them as they were for all time. He had taken them from her to spite her and her light. He had tricked them maliciously—

**_Why did he leave my statue alone, then?_**

The statue that sat at The Kingdom’s Crown. That remained where it had been when she was still in the waking world. The statue and the tablets surrounding it had been left entirely alone. Why would he make such an erroneous move? Why would he leave what was clearly hers alone? Why would he allow such a mistake to persist—it was the mistake that allowed for her light to resurface. Why—

Was she wrong?

Had she had this all wrong from the very start?

**_Am I a monster?_**

She looked at the moth before her. She watched Xero as he tried to summon the strength to fight her. He was fighting so hard—so desperately. He was fighting for his home—for his king. He was fighting for a world where she did not belong. A world that did not need her. What was she in that sort of world? What was her purpose without others? She did not know. However, she had one role to fulfil here—one role that would get Xero to return to the waking world.

It would hurt—she knew that much, but she would still live all the same.

She accepted it—she accepted what would happen here.

She ate her pride and took a deep breath.

She let one of his nails slice clean through her shoulder.

“AGH!” She cried out dramatically, “How?! How could one be so strong?!”

She began to shake the arena she had created, hoping that it would add an extra flair to her fake defeat.

“If only—I’d had—more time!” She clutched the sight of her injury as she let herself fall into the clouds, “This place—will fall—without my—presence!”

She waited for just the right moment. She waited to zero in on Xero’s desire to escape this place. She hoped that he would wish to escape—to go back to the life he knew. It would only take a moment—a microsecond in his mind. If she could capture that desire she could send him back to his king and kingdom.

_There!_

She seized the opportunity and sent him back to the waking world.

With a sigh she curled up in the space of the dream realm, remorse overwhelming her.

Xero shot up from his place on the infirmary bed, startling both monarchs. He looked at The Pale King with an overwhelming joy.

“I did it!” He laughed, “I stopped the infection!”

Both Pale King and Herrah looked at one another before turning back to the moth.

“Could you—”

“I’ll go check—”

“We should make sure—”

Herrah and The Pale King stopped for a moment before nodding at one another. Herrah headed through the doors to go confirm if Xero’s words were true while The Pale King checked him over for signs of infection.

“What happened?” The Pale King asked as he looked Xero over.

“She pulled me into her realm but I fought her fiercely for Hallownest!” Xero exclaimed proudly, “With one nail I was able to seal her defeat!”

That didn’t sound right. None of this seemed right. He wasn’t strong enough to fight his way out of her grasp—not with only one hit to her person. But what was the alternative? That she just let him go? It would contradict what he knew of The Dream Goddess—but then again, what didn’t contradict what he knew of her these days? He would need more information, however Xero was too invested in his victory story.

Herrah ran back in and looked right at The Pale King.

“She isn’t dead!” Herrah panted, “The infection is still ongoing!”

“What—but I—but she—” Xero seemed to be at a loss with this information, “She lied?! How dare she! I’ll cut her down myself!”

“Xero—no!” The Pale King grabbed him, “Please—please don’t leave me again.”

“Your Majesty…”

“Please, I—” The Pale King pulled him into an embrace, “I don’t think I can lose you too. Please—please, don’t do something so reckless again?”

Xero didn’t know what do to—what to say. He was fighting for Hallownest—for the king! Yet, here the king was, begging him not to go. Begging him to survive. His strength should be enough on its own—yet…

“Okay,” Xero returned the hug, “I’ll stay right where you need me, my king.”

“Thank you.” The Pale King held him tighter.

The Pale King didn’t know what this meant—why she would release someone so close to him. He wanted to know. He wanted to speak to her—just as he tried before. However, he wasn’t blind to the risks that posed. He would need a plan. He would need to figure out what to do. He would need Herrah’s input—her strategy. He was lucky to have her on his side.

He… was lucky to have her here.

He wanted her to know that before he faced certain death at the hands of The Dream Goddess. 


End file.
